


Serve your Happiness

by Anchanee



Series: Serve your Happiness and Obey your Heart's Desires [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AO3 1 Million, Accidental Drug Use, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Thorin, Durincest, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Forced Marriage, Humility, Hurt/Comfort, Khuzdul as native tongue, M/M, Manipulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Content, Slash, Snogging, danger of giggling, don't read at work, don't read in the tube, involuntary drug use, strange looks from collegues are ensured, strange looks from strangers are likely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:25:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 194,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchanee/pseuds/Anchanee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first part of this series deals with the interactions between Thorin and Bilbo when they first meet in the Shire.</p><p>Thorin, as well as Fíli and Kíli had been forced by their king Thrain son of Thror, to travel to the Shire and serve the hobbits who live there. This way they can prove themselves to the thain of the Shire so that he will permit trade once more, that will safe the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains from dying of starvation.</p><p>The Durins are desperate, the hobbit is oblivious, yet after a lot of challenges they start developing a sense of familiarity with each other, for some of them even love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Redone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redone/gifts).



> Reading a few marriage fictions this idea is a slight variation of many of them. But the idea stuck with me and after finishing my last Omegaverse with 00Q I was a little lost for inspiration. Now this idea stuck with me and it's quite persistent.
> 
> Although I have got a general idea what this will be about nothing is set in stone by now. So - as some of you know who had read one of my other stories - suggestions and advise is always welcome. 
> 
> As this is a new fic I am in dire need of a beta-reader. If one of you is up for the job I would share my cookies with him. Well ... one cookie for each chapter, or else there would be none left for me ;).

** The Shire **

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit.

Well, actually that’s a little beside the point. Although I adore this sentence, because it makes me feel excited and warm inside because I know that there is a great story to come, it’s not really what will matter in the story you, dear reader, have taken upon yourself to read. So, I think I will try to start again. Still with me? Good! So let’s try:

In a lot of holes in the grounds of the Shire, lived a great many hobbits. As you might know, they were a happy folk that enjoyed the good things in life.

Good food followed by a good pipe-weed. Good ale that followed merrymaking and dancing. Overflowing and colourful gardens and fields , with careful seeding and caretaking, sprouted everything that lived in the ground, or above.

There were hobbit clans that inhabited these fields and gardens such as the Underhills, the Sackvilles, the Proudfoots and countless others. But two of them were most famous of all:

The Bagginses, because members of that family came as respectable as hobbits could be.

You really could set your watch after a member of the Baggins family.  
At a quarter to seven they would rise from their plush beds and enjoy a light breakfast.  
Going on with their morning routine, at nine sharp there would be a delightful second breakfast to set their stomach at ease.  
After a trip to the garden, a pipe or a small errand they would be back at elevensies and on the dot at one o’clock came lunch.  
Taking their time to tend to their gardens, their families and other affairs, they would reunite in their welcoming kitchens at about five in the afternoon for tea.  
The little hobbits would take their time with afternoon activities until supper was served around seven, swiftly followed by the last and most luxurious meal of the day: dinner.  
Dinner around nine would be a quiet and calming affair. Settling the family after another exciting day, preparing them for a relaxing evening.

The members of the Took Clan, on the other hand, were a mischievous and excited lot.

They enjoyed their days free of the bindings of a clock and didn’t even care when they missed a meal or two in favour of exploring the surroundings on far too exciting adventures.  
They revelled in playing pranks on their neighbours and shared many laughs in front of the fire while telling stories of Farmer Maggot screaming and running from his straw man that seemed to have come to life through tiny strings little Tooks had applied to it. Or the chicken breeder who had nearly let go of his egg-stock because the children had hidden a little fledgling in his chart that started to peep as soon as it was moved.  
They were easy to rile and wore their emotions on their tongue, therefore being not the most adored clan in the shire.  
But through all their faults, they were helpful at heart and no one had ever heard of a Took turning away someone in need, or even a pet going hungry in their back garden. They cared a great deal about the people surrounding them and although they enjoyed making fun of them, they had a very strong moral compass and could always tell when a joke would go too far, because under no circumstances, I can assure you, would they ever truly hurt someone on purpose.  
They just enjoyed looking over the borders of the Shire and occasionally even crossing them for excitement.

Therefore when Bungo Baggins showed his interest in Belladonna Took, no one thought anything would come of it. But after a delightful courting where Belladonna had been showered with cherry-blossoms all through the spring, received corollas on every single day of the summer and was gifted with luscious baskets of grapes and pumpkin-cakes during autumn, it was clear that she would leave behind her exciting adventures in favour of one special hobbit who had conquered her heart.

The result of that bond was a luxurious hobbit hole called “Bag End” and a special little hobbit who was the pride and joy of his parents, as well as his grandparents who had never dreamed of hoping this marriage to be successful.

But despite their differences – and you can believe me, there were a great many of them – Bungo and Belladonna where as happy as a couple could be and Bag End was the best home Bilbo could ever wish for.

Therefore our little hobbit had the chance to enjoy the first 36 years of his life with exciting adventures that showed him the borders of his world – in this case Hobbiton and the surrounding fields and forests – encouraged by his mother that loved to hear his stories about the hares he had nearly caught, the rabbits he had nearly trapped and the elves he had nearly seen in the woods.

All the while his father just sat by, listening in with a hidden smile and looking at his family with loving eyes.

Everything was perfect for Bilbo Baggins, until Fell Winter fell upon the Shire.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

 

** Dwarrows **

In a kingdom under a mountain there lived the dwarrows. They called their home “Erebor” and enjoyed their days mining for gold, digging for jewels and trading with the city of men that sat at the foot of their mighty mountain.

As you will surely understand, they were happy and joyful because their kingdom was beautiful and rich and they lacked nothing. Had you but seen Erebor you would be envious and fascinated all the same, because the glittering caves and the walls laced with gold and silver were a sight to behold.

But then came Smaug. A fierce drake invaded their home and his fiery breath forced the dwarrows from their city and left them stranded. Can you imagine a more horrible fate? Although the City of Dale tried to support them, it was clear that there was not enough space for all of them.

Therefore their king, the mighty Thrór, decided that they would make for the Mines of Moria.  
But it was a disastrous decision because the Mines were haunted by orcs and in their search for a new home, many dwarrows of Erebor lost their life alongside with their mighty king in a perilous battle. But you must not think badly of king Thrór -- Moria was the closest kingdom of dwarrows and he had not heard of the ill that had befallen the Mines. Therefore we cannot really judge him or his decision.

Nevertheless, the battle of Azanulbizar was long and hard and futile and the royal family lost not only their monarch and beloved grandfather, but also a son-in-law. So in the end his decision had cost the king his life. There is really no higher price to pay.

It left Thorin stranded with a grieving father who was supposed to lead his people; a mourning sister, who had lost her husband; and two nephews who were far too young to understand the horrible consequences of the battle their parents had fought.

 

Doing his best to protect and assist his father, Thorin decided that it would be wise to leave this part of the country in favour of a journey to the east. The Blue Mountains could make a new home for them. And so, after Thráin had come to terms with his father’s untimely death, the oldest members of the Durin line led their nation through the dangerous lands without any further losses.

On their way to the mountain they passed the Shire and although the hobbits were welcoming and supportive to the best of their abilities, to see the merry folk only reminded the dwarrows of the home they had lost. I assume it has to be hard to see friendly and content creatures in their natural surroundings while grieving for a dead king and a lost kingdom. Their emotions weighed too heavily on all of their souls so that no alliances were forged and they left as soon as they were strong enough to carry on. Not because they were angry with the hobbits in any way, but because every laughter and every smile seemed to slash through their hearts and left a part of them bleeding.

The Blue Mountains proved to be a better choice than Moria, because not only lay there the remnants of a former city, but the surrounding land was fertile and green and it was a good place for a new start. Although the stones were not laced with gold and jewels, they found their fair share of gems and metal, so that the dwarrows had no problems to prosper and find happiness again in their new home.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	2. Act 1

* * *

# Act 1

* * *

 


	3. Recent Developments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first interaction between the dwarrows and the hobbits.

** Two Years Ago **

>   
>  Your Majesty,
> 
> A hard winter is approaching and although I hope that you and your citizens are well off, fed and warm, we hobbits of the Shire are in dire need of your help. The rivers are freezing over and we are afraid that wild animals will cross the Brandywine River.
> 
> Although we have no gold or gems to pay for your aid, we are willing to offer our harvest and crops as remuneration. Being friendly neighbours for the last two decades, I am sure you will be ready to protect us from this terrifying threat.
> 
> Yours,  
>  Gerontious Took   
>  Thain of the Shire  
>   
> 

 

>   
>  Dear Gerontious Took,  
>  Thain of the Shire,
> 
> I am afraid that I cannot spare any of my men in the current situation. But I am sure that sturdy hobbits like yourself will be more than able to deal with a few wild animals.
> 
> Yours,  
>  Thráin, son of Thrór  
>  King of the Blue Mountains  
>   
> 

 

„Why are you doing this, father? Why won‘t you help? We could use the offered goods and a few beasts would really be no danger to us.“ Thorin‘s voice was low but inquisitive when he saw his father answering their neighbours. This was the second winter after a rather poor harvest and their people would profit from the hobbits’ offer of food a great deal.

But the eyes as well as the words of the king were harsh and unforgiving as he sealed the letter and offered it the messenger who had brought it. „Because we don‘t need these hobbits! We can very well deal on our own. We have made it this far. We will make it further!“ Looking at his son he ordered: „Now go and find these useless grandsons of mine. We will need to discuss the distribution of the stocks. They are of no use to anyone if they go around, planning mischief all day!“

Thorin instantly felt the need to defend his nephews, even when he knew that his father spoke the truth. After the death of their father more than two decades ago, Thorin had been more of a parental figure to them than an uncle. He loved them dearly and would do everything for them. But they did not always make it easy for him. Only yesterday, had they tied all the swords and axes of the armoury to their sheaths with a ball of Ori‘s favourite knitting yarn. The young scribe had been the first one to be scolded by the arms-master, until his boys had saved him when they realized that Dwalin had nearly reduced Ori to tears.

You see, dear reader, there was not much to do for two excitable and adventurous princes in the wake of the winter, where they could not leave the mountain and were forbidden to go down into the mines. They had simply looked for some excitement, but when they had realized that someone else was paying for their prank, they had stepped in immediately and taken the blame. Because - and you can really believe me in that - they were good dwarrows at heart and did not wish for any friend of theirs to be punished.

Dwalin made them sharpen and polish every last axe and sword - and some more when they were at it - as punishment. And not willing to leave his friends alone, Ori had tagged along and offered to unweave the yarn from the sheaths and polish them afterwards. The three of the young dwarrows had laughed and planned more mischief together in the course of that afternoon, as you might imagine.

Therefore Thorin wholeheartedly agreed with his father that there had to be a better outlet for the boys excessive energy.

 

After finding Fíli and Kíli, he had dragged his nephews out of the kitchen by their ears, after they had showered Bombur - along with the rest of the kitchen crew - with flour. He brought them before their grandfather immediately and watched them sink into themselves as the king dressed them down for close to an hour.

Afterwards they were assigned for kitchen duty because - as the king stated - they obviously enjoyed dealing with food. Therefore they spent the rest of the week peeling potatoes, washing and slicing vegetables and carrying dishes through the entire mountain. Assuming you are aware that parents always know the best way to punish their children, you will be satisfied to hear that Fili and Kili gave the kitchen a wide berth for the rest of that winter.

 

The hobbits sent no other message during this winter that turned out to be harder and more persistent than had ever been. Snow came down well into springtime and the dwarrows really were at the end of their provisions when the days finally got longer and the sun warmer.

When they made their first trip to the Shire they were regarded with cold glances by unusually gloomy hobbits. They had to pay a lot more than the previous year for their first supplies. Confused by the rather untypical treatment by the hobbits, they swiftly returned to the Blue Mountains and their trips to the green fields diminished greatly in number and frequency.

That year’s harvest was low once more and when the spring came many of them were starved.

Dís as well as Thorin beseeched their father to change his mind. For they clearly knew how to till to their fields and tend to their bushes and trees, so that these hung in full bloom and ripe with fruits. But Thráin was a stubborn and prideful king and he couldn‘t make himself to reach out to people he had brushed off so brusquely earlier.

As you can surely understand, Thorin and his sister were very worried for their father as well as their people. But there was nothing they could do without openly defying their king and they were not ready to do this … yet.

It took another year and another - though mild, but full of deprivation - winter for the king to see reason. Due to a tumble in a nearby river Fíli had fallen ill, and his brother - never leaving his side - picked up the flu as well. Lying side by side in their room, with a horribly worried mother who was not even able to provide them with a simple soup, Fíli and Kíli’s illness made their grandfather change his mind.

Though Thorin had practically forced his father to his grandsons’ sickbeds, after seeing his beloved grandchildren shivering under their fur-blankets, Thráin finally gave in and agreed to ask their neighbours for help.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

 

** Not Too Long Ago **

****

>   
>  Dear Gerontious Took,  
>  Esteemed Thain of the Shire,
> 
> I offer you my greetings and hope that you, your family and your people fare well.
> 
> Considering that the relationship between our people has not been the best over the last few years; I will offer a treaty that should bring great profit and honour to both of us.
> 
> We - the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains - would like start a regular trade with your people. We offer invaluable gems as well as gold and silver, in addition to tools and other equipment made of metal I am sure you will have to strain yourself to come by, in exchange for harvest.
> 
> If you would be willing to send a representative to the Blue Mountains to discuss my offer, I can assure you, he would be received with great honour and hospitality.
> 
> Yours honourably,  
>  Thráin, son of Thrór  
>  King of the Blue Mountains  
>   
> 

 

Alright, you and I both know that there really was no way for the king to be any more insulting towards the thain of the Shire. Offering gems, gold and things that the hobbits „would have to strain themselves to come by“, was a tremendous affront. Although hobbits are simple folk as we are well aware of, they really don‘t like anyone to imply that they are unable to provide for themselves or their families and friends. And that all on top of his rather rude rebuff of Gerontious Took‘s request for help not two years earlier.

The dwarven king might have been a little more sensible - well no he wouldn‘t have, because he thought himself terribly polite and even humble in that letter - had he known the loss that his initial refusal to help had caused the hobbits and that thain in particular.

For, you see, the Fell Winter two years earlier had turned out to be even more terrible than the Old Took had initially expected. The Brandywine River had frozen solid and the starved wolves had invaded the Shire. They had decimated the livestock and a few good and honest hobbits had lost their lives. Therefore Gerontious Took felt no particular sympathy for the king of the Blue Mountains, especially since among the casualties were his beloved daughter and her husband.

He would have had no need to sit at the bed of his sick grandson Bilbo and look at the boy who had barely been of age and explain to him why his mother and father were not with him anymore. He would not have had to hold the heartbroken young man in his arms as he seemed to cry forever and ever in the home his father had once built for his mother, helping him to come to terms with the reality that he was now the master of Bag End with all the consequent responsibilities.

Had the king known all that, he might, just might, have taken a different course of action. But he remained oblivious to the other man’s grief -and who could hold it against him, because neither you nor I were there to tell him? And therefore he was rather disappointed with the answer he received on his perfectly polite letter.

 

>   
>  Dear Thráin, son of Thrór,  
>  King of the Blue Mountains,
> 
> I am afraid we hobbits have no need for gems and gold, and we are perfectly fine to acquire our needed tools in the town of Bree.
> 
> So as you see, we do not require your support or your offerings any more.
> 
> Yours,  
>  Gerontious Took   
>  Thain of the Shire  
>   
> 

 

Harsh, but true, and Gerontious would have rather abandoned his meals for an entire week than ever taking anything his people might need or want from the proud dwarven-king.

The hobbits of the Shire were perfectly happy and self-sustaining, thank you very much, and he had no intention to change that with a treaty between himself and the dwarven-king.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	4. Now We Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In outrageous request and the thoughts of most people concerned by it.

“Why would you refuse the dwarven-king?” Adamanta Took, formerly Chubb, was a sensible woman and once she had read the letter her husband had written to the king of the Blue Mountains, she had known better than to comment on it. But after a few days she felt safe to ask.

Rocking Isengar in her lap where her youngest slept soundly after his lunch, she looked at Gerontious with soft eyes. “You are well aware that such a treaty would be beneficial for us hobbits as well as for the dwarves. But still you are unwilling to take the offer. Why is that, love?”

The thain puffed his pipe in irritation and fluffed up a little, as if insulted by his wife’s questions. But when he saw her sparkling eyes that shone with amusement, he sat back down and looked out of the window. Adamanta knew him well enough to let him take his time with the answer, and she was – as you can imagine – proven right, when she finally heard his low voice admitting: “Because of Belladonna. I don’t want to have anything to do with that kingdom. If it were not for the dwarrows’ refusal, our daughter and her Bungo would still be with us, with Bilbo. They have caused us so much grief. I don’t want them to be part of our lives again.”

Having suspected something like this, his wife stood up and offered their youngest son to his father. When Gerontious had a firm grip on the baby boy, she leaned into him and hugged the both of them, kissing him lovingly. Her voice was soft and supportive when she whispered: “We don’t need them. We have a good life, you are a good thain and you protect our people. No need to do something you don’t feel comfortable with.” After that she returned to the kitchen, preparing apple-tart for tea.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

“What do you mean they didn’t agree?” Thráin’s voice was thunderous. Thorin didn’t even flinch when his father and king shouted at him. He simply offered the letter from the Shire and explained calmly: “They say they have no need for us. I told you rebuffing them when they needed help two years ago was a bad idea. Now we need to find a way to convince them.”

Thráin rose from his seat and started to walk in circles around the throne room. Balin – who had been the king’s adviser for the better part of a century – took the letter from Thorin and looked at it. He had suspected that the hobbits would not be swayed with gold and jewels, but had not suggested anything else, because he knew his king better than anyone. Thráin was only open to suggestions when there was no other way.

Approaching his king calmly, he waited until the other man had paced off some of his agitation before recommending: “Maybe the hobbits can be persuaded, if we offer our services instead of our metal. They are simple folk, you must remember that, sire. They enjoy their mealtimes and their gardens and their comfortable homes. They have no need for treasures. But we have experienced them to be  hospitable and helpful. Perhaps if you would be willing to share the direness of our situation, they would be more inclined to help.”

Thorin and Balin shared a doubtful look. Both knew about their king’s stubbornness. But the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains were in severe need of help, for they had either enough crops to feed their people over the summer, or bring out the harvest this spring. So either way they were in danger of starving if their neighbours refused to help.

Angrily the king waved both of them off and continued his frantic pacing. He knew his heir and advisor were both right. But he hated asking for help, no matter how supportive the recipient might be. And until now the thain of the Shire had appeared nothing like that.

 

>   
>  Dear Gerontious Took,  
>  Honourable Thain of the Shire,
> 
> I send you my greetings and hope that you, your family and your people fare well.
> 
> I fear that I had you confused with my last offer. The truth is, we are in need of your support. Dwarrows – as it turns out – are not very good at tending to fields and gardens. Therefore our stocks are greatly diminished and we would truly appreciate your help, as good neighbours.
> 
> We would be willing to offer our support and services in any way you could need them. I am sure that we can find an arrangement we both would profit from.
> 
> Yours sincerely,  
>  Thráin, son of Thrór  
>  King of the Blue Mountains  
>   
> 

 

It was a bitter pill to swallow. But seeing his people starving once again was more than the king could bear. Because – and you really have to believe that – Thráin was a good king, who only wanted what was best for his people.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

“How dare he?” The thain’s voice could be heard in every last corner in his hobbit hole, as well as on the next hill. His wife hurried around the corner to find out what has distressed her husband so much. Three of his ten children were following her, looking at their father in worry. Looking into the eyes of his beloved family, Gerontious rose from his desk and hugged his little ones, before shooing them into the garden. Ignoring the questioning eyes of his wife, he just kissed her on the forehead before returning to his desk brooding.

His wife put up with his attitude for the rest of the afternoon. But when he was gloomy all through supper and dinner, she sent her children to their rooms to care for their little brother and cornered her husband in the living room. Taking his face into her hands she kissed him tenderly, before looking at him with steel in her eyes. It took the patriarch of the Took family, thain of the Shire, exactly two minutes to crumble under her stare. Resigned, he went to his study and showed her the letter. Reading it carefully, she made herself at home on her husband’s lap before looking at him.

“And you feel uncomfortable with giving him another chance, even though he is in a similar situation we were two winters ago? We asked for help and he refused us. We both know what came of it. Now he asks for help. Do you really want the possible consequences on your conscience, Gerontious?” she inquired.

Frustrated because of his own indecision, he rubbed his forehead against hers while musing: “I am not sure. I can’t trust him. His last letters haven’t suggested that he, that all of them, have changed at all. I don’t want our people bound to them if we are looked down at and not respected at all. I am not sure that a race as stubborn as the dwarrows is even capable of changing their behaviour towards us. So what shall I do? Leave them hanging or trading with someone potentially impolite or downright rude? We live peacefully here. I don’t want this peace disturbed by contumelious dwarrows.”

Rubbing circles on her husband’s neck soothingly, Adamanta suggested: “What if you put them up for a test? If they can prove that they will treat us with respect and politeness, we can trade with them. If not, you can always reject them. Then they will have brought their fate upon themselves. All you need to find is a task no prideful and stubborn dwarf would go for, to find out how serious they are.”

I am sure you have noticed the change in the Old – well by then not so Old – Took’s thoughts. His hostility towards the dwarrows for the loss of his daughter still simmered under the surface and his wife surely knew that. But honestly, she was glad that he was willing to see past his emotions, and - I can assure you - you will be as well. Maybe not from the beginning, but stay with me, for end of this story will be worth all troubles and tribulations our beloved characters have to go through.

So after helping his wife with clean-up, he retreated into his study, sat at his desk in the soft candle-light, starring at the letter and thinking of a suitable task. He remembered the communications between himself and the king of the Blue Mountains as well as their consequences: the death of his daughter; Bilbo’s pain after the loss of his parents; the dwarven-kings foolish requests for help, masked behind proud words and meaningless offerings. Midnight approached when he finally made his decision.

 

>   
>  Dear Thráin, son of Thrór,  
>  King of the Blue Mountains,
> 
> I tried considering your offer with an open mind, but I am still not convinced that it will be in the best interest of my people to trade with yours. It pains me to say so, but we hobbits are a simple folk and we have found the dwarves of the Blue Mountains prideful and patronizing towards our needs.
> 
> But not to be hard-hearted towards the needs of your people, I am willing to offer you a chance to prove yourselves changed and worthy of a trading with us.
> 
> If one dwarf, only a single dwarf of you clan, can bring himself to let go of his pride and convince a hobbit that he is willing to serve and to obey him for the rest of his life, our people will gladly trade with you, because who would let down family in a time of need?
> 
> We will accommodate any potential suitors for the duration of the summer.
> 
> Yours respectfully,  
>  Gerontious Took   
>  Thain of the Shire  
>   
> 

 

To offer a hobbit’s hand in marriage to a dwarf – and basically that was what Gerontious Took implied with this letter – was a bold move and never in his life would he have thought that ANY dwarf would be willing to undergo such a step.

But on the other hand, he truly underestimated the direness of the dwarrows’ situation. Because, you see, for a hobbit it is unthinkable that one would not have enough food in his pantry to meet the needs of his family and friends. No hobbit would ever go hungry because there were always family and friends to provide for him. It was no shame to take help when in need of it. There were always ways to repay the kindness later. One helped the other; those were the ways of the Shire-hobbits.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The letter crumpled in Thráin’s hand and sailed towards the floor as the king hunched over his desk, head heavy in his hand. After a few hours of brooding he retired for the night, the hobbit’s letter forgotten on the floor of his study.

It took the king more than a week to call for his family and inform them of his decision. He was well aware that there was really no other choice if he wanted his people to make it through the winter. Therefore he came right to the point as soon as his children and grandchildren had gathered before him:

“Thorin, Fíli and Kíli, the three of you will go to the Shire and attend the needs of the hobbits for the duration of the summer. You will serve and support them to the best of your abilities and I expect at least one of you three to return during fall with a potential spouse.” The gravity of the king’s voice scotched any idea that he could be anything but dead serious.

Thorin was the first one to find his voice, when Fíli and Kíli secretly grabbed each other’s hands, and held onto each other for dear life. Their uncle forced as much calm into his voice as possible: “Just to make sure I understand correctly: you expect us to live with the hobbits, work for them and court them so that we can find a wife or husband to marry in the fall? Are you serious, father?”

The king rose from his throne and approached his heirs. He towered slightly over them and it took all of Thorin’s willpower not to take a step back. However, he positioned himself slightly in front of his nephews who were calmed by their mother.

The king’s voice was thunderous when he stated: “You three will obey me in this! If you are unable to comply with my commands, tell me now, so that I can find more suitable candidates for this assignment in another clan. I am sure the hobbit will show some leniency when I inform him that my heirs shamed me by disobeying; when I inform him that I will disinherit them!

“This is for the good of the kingdom. Our people need this treaty as you are all aware. I thought that I could rely on my family to support our realm.”

The disappointed and angry glare caused all four Durins to lower their eyes and they retreated after the ceremonial bow with, “As you wish, my king.”

 

Fíli and Kíli fled to their rooms and closed the door with a clap. Shivering slightly after the revelation, Kíli looked at his brother with tears in his eyes.

Fíli could just sit down on his bed (well actually their bed, because Kíli rarely slept in his own room), staring blindly on the floor with blank eyes. Kíli instantly crouched down on the bed beside him and leaned onto his brother, encircling him with his arms. He buried his face on the blond’s shoulder and whispered: “What if he wants us? What if they will separate us, Fíli? I couldn’t bear it.”

Turning towards his little brother, Fíli hugged him fiercely and stroked his hair soothingly before asking: “And if we don’t bear it, what will become of our people? We will not make it through another winter. Do you really think we can afford to ignore that?”

Kíli clung onto him for dear life and shivered slightly. Both were disturbed by the idea of being separated to serve one hobbit’s wishes for the rest of their lives, but they were members of the royal family and had learned that sometimes you couldn’t afford to take your personal feelings into consideration when it came to the needs of the kingdom.

 

“Promise me, brother. Promise me you will do everything to spare them this fate!” Dis looked into the fires of her room and her voice was not louder than the wind whispering on the side of their mountain. But Thorin heard her nevertheless.

Stepping up to his sister, he hugged her and stroked her back soothingly. His voice was calm and sure when he promised: “I swear to you I will do everything in my power to persuade these hobbits that the future king will serve their needs better than his nephews. I will protect your sons, don’t worry, sister.”

Looking into Thorin’s shining blue eyes, Dís simply nodded and returned the embrace. “How could he do this to you, to his grandsons?” She was disturbed and desperate and simply could not understand her father’s harsh decision.

Once more the prince calmed her with an explanation: “Because he really doesn’t have a choice. We won’t make it through another winter. We all know that. The hobbits are our chance for a better future, any future at all, to be honest. There really is no other way, Dís. But have faith. Everything will turn out fine. I promise you.” After that he just kissed his sister on the forehead and left her room.

 

After his sister has been reassured, Thorin retreated to his own chambers. His regal posture seemed to melt away as soon as the door was closed behind him. He approached the armchairs in front of his own fireplace with slow and tired steps, and after he had sat down he buried his face in his hands. In that moment, you really could mistake Thorin for his father.

Tired, lonely and desperate, his thoughts circled around the merry people who had woven such a cruel plot, to enthral a member of his family and bind him to them forever.

There was really no other choice than it being him. He knew his nephews. Knew of their love for each other, and while they were discreet in the open, they could never survive being separated by marriage to a member of another race. Besides, Thorin highly doubted that any hobbit would tolerate his or her potential husband to entertain a lover, least of all his own brother.

So if he wanted his people to survive the next winter, and protect his nephews’ happiness, he would be forced to bind himself to a hobbit for life. He just hoped that he would have the strength for it.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -


	5. Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What has to be done when dwarrows are living with a hobbit over the summer. As well as a very strenuous journey.

The thain was more than surprised when another letter arrived from the Blue Mountains. He really hadn’t expected the king to answer his outrageous demand. He was even more taken aback and, to be honest, slightly stunned after he read Thráin’s message:

 

 

 

>   
>  Dear Gerontious Took,  
>  Esteemed Thain of the Shire,
> 
> Please await the arrival of my son Thorin and his nephews Fíli and Kíli, sons of Dís, on the first of May. They reach you in agreement to your stated terms and will live with you all through the summer.
> 
> I have faith that at least one member of my family will be able to meet the expectations of the hobbit you have chosen as suitor. All three will be his to command for the courting period.
> 
> I hope we will come to a mutual beneficial agreement, once the spouses are chosen.
> 
> Yours,  
>  Thráin, son of Thrór  
>  King of the Blue Mountains  
> 

 

“What is it, love?” Adamanta had just entered the study with a cup of tea and a generous slice of pumpkin pie when she found her husband looking at a new letter, completely baffled.

“He will be sending three members of his family. His own son and two grandsons.” Took was completely perplexed when thinking about the offering. The King was sending his own heirs. Why would he do that? There were hundreds of clan members living in the Blue Mountains. Did he not have enough faith that any other dwarf would be able to live with them and be respectful and polite all the time?

His wife’s eyes mirrored the Took’s confusion, when she picked up the letter to see for herself, trailing her fingers through her husband’s curly hair while reading. After a few moments she gave it back and simply stated: “Then you’d better make arrangements for their accommodation. They surely can’t live here; they would never have a second’s peace.” Kissing him she left the room, secretly smiling to herself. Maybe there was a way to span the gap that had lingered between their people for far too long.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 “Of course I can accommodate them. It’s no trouble at all!” Bilbo seemed delighted at the prospect of having house guests over the summer. He had been helping himself to a rather big slice of his grandmother’s apple pie when his grandfather had asked for his thoughts on bringing three dwarrows into Bag End. Warriors who were willing to help him – as well as his neighbours – with much needed repairs. The woodcarver had recently been blessed with twins so he had his hands full and was neglecting his business a little and Hobbiton’s blacksmith had died two summers ago at the great old age of 102.

“I am aware that it is a rather big request, Bilbo, but you see, Bag End is quite spacious and you are …”, trailing off the thain looked uncomfortably at his own plate and pushed his piece of pie around. He really had a bad conscience when he thought of what he was getting his grandson into.

But Bilbo was a friendly and open young man, a real gentlehobbit, with impeccable manners and a flawless attitude. If there ever was someone in need, his grandson’s door was always open, even if it was just for a nice cup of tea and an open ear. Being well off, Bilbo didn’t shy from offering monetary support to those who needed it, and refused to mention it to anyone. He never mouthed anyone off. If he had lovers, he was never one to kiss and tell. All in all, Bilbo Baggins of Bag End was as respectable as a Shire-hobbit could be and his grandparents were incredibly proud of the young man he had become.

But there was no denying of him being lonely. Having lost his parents so shortly after coming of age, he had more or less adopted each and every inhabitant of Hobbiton as his extended family and treated them as such. But there was still a difference between friends and family that was loved. And Bag End – though beautiful – was far too big for a single hobbit.

Maybe Gerontious Took even hoped that if the dwarrows had truly had a change of heart, there was a slight chance for his grandson to find a partner. If not – well, Bilbo had learned to stand up for himself at a young age – there was no way he would be persuaded to do anything he didn’t want to do. And while other hobbits might be scared by the overwhelming presence of three dwarrows in their homes, Bilbo seemed completely comfortable with that thought. Gerontious only could hope for the best.

After tea they all hugged and Bilbo even took another hour of his time to entertain his little aunts and uncles in the garden, so that their mother would have time to prepare supper.

 

The first stars were beginning to lighten up the night sky when Bilbo wandered the well-known paths towards his home. He had close to two weeks to prepare his hole for his summer guests and although he had not told his grandfather so, he felt slightly uneasy at the prospect of housing three dwarrows.

He didn’t share his grandfather’s animosity towards them. It was not their fault that the wolves had killed his parents. But they were usually  very loud and big. Well not as big as men, but bigger than hobbits nevertheless. Would they be comfortable in his home? Would they like it there? Would he be able to accommodate them suitably? Would they be nice? Surely they would be nice, they would live with him over the summer, surely they appreciated that.

Making a mental list of everything that he knew dwarrows liked, he came up with frighteningly few things. They liked stone, that’s why they lived in the mountains. They enjoyed metalworking, gems and gold. So how would he make his small, cosy hobbit hole comfortable for them?

On the market the next day he bought some colourful sparkling rocks, a few metal bowls and a big, iron ornament that seemed rather crude to him, but surely would be liked by a dwarf. He started dusting and brushing and polishing is already impeccable home. He decorated two of his guest-rooms with the new trinkets.

The metal ornament replaced a lovely picture of a spring scene with dancing hobbits over the fireplace in the single bedroom. The sparkling rocks and bowls were used as a decoration and candle holders in the single as well as in the double bedroom. He had even placed big rocks in the fireplaces of both rooms and arranged the wood neatly around them, because he thought that the smell of hot stone and the heat they would conserve would help the dwarrows to feel slightly more at home.

It all must sound very silly to you, dear reader, and I am very well aware of that. But you see, Bilbo had nothing but his home, and feeling welcome there seemed the most important thing to him. The prospect of leaving it, leaving behind everything he knew and was accustomed to, was unthinkable to him. Therefore he suspected that it was the same for everybody else, even if it was only for the duration of a summer.

He wanted his guests to feel welcome and comfortable so he even purchased a few fur covers for the beds in rather gloomy colours. But he suspected that dwarrows would not be too fond of bright blankets and colourful arrangements. But one thing he couldn’t resist that was hobbit-y through and through: he filled large vases with water and the day before his guests arrived he neatly arranged them with the most beautiful spring flowers he could pick in the Shire. Looking around the two rooms one last time, he closed their doors with a content smile before attending his dinner.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

The last travelling arrangements were made and Thorin had the latest letter of the thain secured in his pocket, when he left the mountain with his two nephews in tow.

 

 

 

>   
>  Dear Thráin, son of Thrór,  
>  King of the Blue Mountains,
> 
> Bilbo Baggins of Bag End will accommodate your family all through the summer. Being the sole owner of Bag End, he will be able to provide for them during their stay and by the end of the summer will judge their behaviour.
> 
> I wish neither for you nor your kin to discuss any part of our arrangement with him. He shall be persuaded by deeds, not by words, and if I discover any pressure being laid on him, I will send back your son and grandsons immediately.
> 
> I have faith that you and yours will honour our deal and if at least one of them proves himself to be willing to obey and serve a simple hobbit, we will welcome him into our family with open arms. But as I stated earlier: the decision has to be Bilbo’s and Bilbo’s alone.
> 
> We are expecting your people at the beginning of Thrimidge.
> 
> Yours,  
>  Gerontious Took  
>  Thain of the Shire  
> 

 

They had decided against using ponies because they were not sure if their beasts would be welcome and if there was a chance of accommodating them. With light gear they made their way over the wide land between the mountains and the Shire, aiming for Far Downs on their way because that would be a good place to stock up their provisions.

Unfortunately the weather in Astron [April] proved to be very freakish with blazing hot days followed by heavy rain and even a hailstorm towards the end of the month. Thorin as well as Fíli and Kíli were freezing and wet to their bones after the cold and the constant rain for more than two days. Even Thorin providing his warm coat for the two boys simply kept them from catching a very bad cold, but did not do much to warm them upSo they all simply sat, huddled together to conserve their warmth.

 

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

Fíli was well aware what burden his uncle had to carry and did his best to support the older man during their travels. He scouted ahead, sent Kíli on hunting trips so that they would at least have a hearty meal in the evenings.

But when he watched his uncle dragging out the cursed letter, reading the smudged words over and over again, and then putting it away, he was well aware of the lines on his uncle’s forehead or the clouds that darkened his eyes.

“We will do it together you know.” Being wrapped up in their uncle’s coat once again, Kíli sleeping uneasily on his back, arms wrapped around the older brother, Fíli rested his head on his uncle’s shoulder. His words were low but could be heard nevertheless.

“We are in this together and if the hobbit is charmed by one of us, we will do our best to convince him that we are suitable. Kíli and I talked about it and we won’t leave you alone in this, uncle Thorin.”

Being grateful for his nephew’s support, but completely aware that none of them could ever go through with this, Thorin simply hugged Fíli and dragged both boys closer. Snuggled together against the clammy cold, he simply starred into the fire and thought about what the next day would bring.

 

Their provisions were running low and they had been slower than estimated. Originally they had planned to arrive a few days before the first of May, so that they would have time to get themselves together, accustom themselves to their surroundings, and present themselves in the best possible light.

But now they were late, tired, hungry and wet and a part of Thorin desperately wished to reach Hobbiton sooner rather than later, although he was aware that the small freedoms he had had as prince of the Blue Mountains would end as soon as they reached the hobbit’s home. He dreaded the first interaction with the small creature. He didn’t even know if he would be able to obey the commands of someone who was so much beneath him and serve him humbly, so as to convince him that he would be worth spending his life with.

But if he wasn’t successful it would leave his nephews to pay the price for the hobbits’ help, and that was even more unbearable to Thorin. He loved the two boys fiercely and would do everything for them to have a chance for happiness, even if that meant giving up his. He was the future king, so his first duty was towards the kingdom and making sure that his people were provided for.

 

Brushing his fingers through his Fíli’s hair he tried to remember everything he could about hobbits. But apart from food and flowers as well as singing and dancing nothing came to his mind. Maybe they should have brought a gift for their host. On the other hand, they offered themselves as lowly servants and sacrificed their pride for the sake of their people – what more could these damn hobbits demand?

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The picture in this chapter was included after a had luckily received permission to post them from Kaci. 
> 
> You can find the original picture here: http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/40318333552 along with a lot other drawings from her skilled hand's.


	6. Servants or Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected interaction.
> 
> The arrival of the three Durin's in Bag End.

The three Durins were miserable. A soft shower had wetted their clothes once again, and not having thoroughly dried since the last rain, they all were cold and clammy and altogether very unhappy when they arrived in front of the green door of Bag End.

Arriving in the Shire, they first made their way to Gerontius Took.. The thain had looked up at them with a stoic face before telling them the route they had to take to reach their host.

They steeled themselves for the first contact with their hobbit, hoping that he would be not as unpleasant as the Old Took, but without much hope for it.

This Bilbo Baggins was meant to judge them and therefore held the fate of the entire dwarven kingdom in his hands. They looked at each other, tired, hungry and wet before Thorin straightened up to his full height and knocked on the green door. It was a very nice door, in a very colourful and well-tended garden. Altogether it would have made a welcoming impression, had the dwarrows been able to look past their prejudice towards their host.

Their opinion of the hobbits did not improve when their first knock went unanswered. So did their second. Was it a custom of the hobbits to leave people standing on your doorstep? Or did they think servants should use back doors? Thorin gritted his teeth, but remembered the plight of his people and suppressed his anger at such humiliation. “Perhaps this is the wrong door?” he said. “Fili, Kili, go and check whether there is another round, green door nearby.”But as soon as Fíli had opened the small garden gate, he heard a breathless voice calling for him.

“Sorry? Hello? You must be one of the Durins … just a second!”

 

When the three dwarrows turned around, they saw an exhausted hobbit with a wide basket running up the hill, weaving at them. As soon as he reached the gate Fíli still held open in confusion, he put the container down and leaned over, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. After a few moments, where the dwarrows really didn’t know how to react at all, he straightened himself up and looked at them with a brilliant smile, before explaining: “I am SO sorry. I didn’t know when you would arrive so I just dashed to the market to buy some fresh honey cakes for tea. But then the rain started and my cousin Falco invited me to wait it out, but after a few minutes I was afraid I would miss your arrival and I actually did and I am sooooo sorry. Honestly.”

Looking at his guests, who watched him with utter confusion, he became aware that he was actually babbling. He had prepared himself for their arrival for so long, and now that they stood before him, he really didn’t know how to react. Shaking his head, remembering his manners he offered his hand with a smile and decided to start at the beginning: “Bilbo Baggins, nice to meet you.”

That obviously was something the three men could deal with, because instantly the arranged each other alongside and introduced themselves:

“Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Fíli.”

“And Kíli.”

And with a deep bow they all said in unison: “At your service.”

After lowering his ignored hand, Bilbo watched their introduction, equally confused and amused, when he took in their figures for the first time. Paling he stammered: “My goodness! You look positively drenched. What kind of host am I? Come in, come in, we must get you warm and dry or you will catch a cold.”

Picking up his basket he rushed towards the door, opened it – because you see, in Hobbiton no one ever locks his door, entering another’s house uninvited is regarded as very bad manners and no hobbit would ever even think of doing something like that – and welcomed his guests into his home.

 

As soon as he had closed the door behind them, he ordered in a chipper tone: “Take off you wet clothes. I will get you something to dry down. Make a fire in the living room to warm up. I will be with you in a minute.”

Confused and honestly a little overwhelmed by the energy this small creature radiated, the three Durins entered the living room and looked at each other in bewilderment. Kíli was the first one to speak. Gesturing towards his clothes he asked: “Do you think we should?”

Fíli just shrugged his shoulders and started to remove his wet overcoat. “He said so, so …”, looking towards their uncle before continuing with his vest.

The prince made a very unflattering comment in Khuzdul along the way of <inspecting the merchandise> but he removed his overcoat as well and continued with his waistcoat and his shirts and the young princes followed his example. After removing his last layer Thorin remembered the hobbits order to start a fire. Only in his smallclothes, he grabbed a few blocks of wood and ignited them in the fireplace of the small room.

Huddling together for warmth, rubbing their clammy arms and legs, the dwarrows shot to their feet when their host cleared his throat next to them. None of them had heard his approach and they looked very unsure of what to do when he looked at them before his cheeks started to flame with redness. Practically throwing a bundle of blankets and towels at them the halfling turned around and stammered: “I … oh … ahm … I am sorry. I didn’t mean … but make yourselves at home I will make some hot tea. That will do you good. And maybe the honey-cakes and some sandwiches. Are you hungry? Cucumber sandwiches are lovely with tea … I … ahm … I will return in a moment,” before staggering from his living room into the kitchen.

 

“Not the best start for a living arrangement. How could you stare? That was so rude! Bilbo Baggins, your mother has taught you better!” Bilbo was banging his head against the oven when he remembered the embarrassing scene in the living room. He had expected the dwarrows to remove their wet coats, not strip down to their smallclothes. But when confronted with their lean and strong bodies Bilbo had been unable NOT to stare. They were really very attractive and being an admirer of the male form Bilbo had noted this instantly.

But that still was no reason for bad manners. They looked tired and cold and surely expected a polite host. Until now Bilbo was sure that he had given a rather bad impression. Remembering tea he filled up the kettle and placed it close to the kitchen fire before raiding his pantry for bread and cucumber. Cutting up the whole loaf he seasoned it with a little mayonnaise and dill before arranging cucumber slices in a neat row.

On another plate he put out the cakes he had just bough. After the kettle was whistling he filled his biggest tea-pot with hot water and ginger root as well as lemon juice and placed everything on a big tray. Assembling the food and beverages so that he could carry it easily, he remembered the honey at the very last second, before re-entering his living room.

Once again his guests seemed startled when he placed the tray on the table behind them. They had dried their hair and wrapped themselves up in the blankets he had given them. For a moment Bilbo thought that he had seen the two younger men embracing in front of the fire, but he pushed the thought aside, in favour of offering a suitable afternoon-tea.

His voice was cheerful when he pointed out: “I have made hot tea. You seem like you could need it. And I have made sandwiches and here are the cakes I mentioned earlier.”

Preparing three cups with honey he offered them to his guests who took it rather reluctantly. But the dark one – has it been Kíli or Fíli? – took a sip and instantly complimented him: “That’s really good, Master Boggins. What’s in there?”, before edging his brother on to try his cup.

Smiling he corrected his guest: “It’s Baggins, but you can call me Bilbo. It’s ginger root and lemon juice. It will help you not to get sick.”

“Dwarves don’t get sick,” Thorin’s voice was deep and grumpy when he picked up a sandwich and smelled it a little warily. But after a moment, he remembered where he was and why he was here, so he looked at his host, who eyed him, uncertain.

Instantly Thorin bowed his head in apology, before picking up his own cup and taking a sip. It was surprisingly good with the sharp flavour of the ginger, the freshness of the lemon juice and the sweetness of the honey. Thinking desperately of a way to make up for the bad impression he must have left he said: “This, this is really good. Thank you, Master Baggins,” before lowering his eyes.

“Please, Bilbo is sufficient. No need to be so formal when we will be living together during the summer. I am glad you like it. I am afraid I don’t know a lot about dwarrows. But I hope that you will find my home comfortable enough.”

He relaxed a little before adding on an afterthought: “You know what. I think a hot bath would do you tons of good. I have recently replaced my old tub with a new one, but I have not thrown the old one out by now. I could prepare a bath for the three of you. After the long journey I am sure you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

Once again the three of them looked at each other in confusion before Thorin spoke again: “Yes, that would be … very generous of you.”

Bilbo, stuffing the last of his honey cake into his mouth, stood up almost instantly and wandered into the depth of his hobbit hole. Generous, Thorin had said. Offering a bath would be generous of him. What kind of impression has he left with his guests? Well, they would get the very best supper he was able to come up with and dinner would blow them away! No dwarf would leave the Shire with the impression that hobbits were rude or uncaring hosts.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

“He’s strange,” was the first comment Fíli allowed himself when they were sure that Bilbo was truly gone.

“But his food is terrific. I didn’t even know green things could taste so good,” Kíli added, grabbing the last sandwich from the plate. With a much better mood now that he was not hungry and cold any more, the young dwarf leaned onto his brother who wrapped his arm around him protectively, before stating with a yawn: “I think he is nice. I like him.”

Thorin still hadn’t quite made up his mind but he couldn’t disagree with his nephew when it came to the food. For now Bilbo Baggins had proven himself polite and kind, but that didn’t change the reason why they were here. So he reminded them in a deep, low voice: “He’s still here to judge us. Don’t forget that. He can be polite all he wants but that’s of no use if he deems us unworthy at the end of the summer. We have to be careful, Kíli, and you too, Fíli. He has sneaked up on us twice so far. So pay attention to what you are doing and what you are saying. We can’t afford to lose his favour. It would be the end of our people.”

Both boys bit their lips and nodded reluctantly. It was not about them or their impression; it was exactly the other way around. They would have to do everything in their power to make the hobbit like them. In the next few minutes, they polished off everything Bilbo had served, as well as the tea that really made them feel better as soon as they had drunk a few cups. Maybe it was simply the hot beverage, maybe Bilbo was right and his recipe did them a little good.

When their host hadn’t returned after all the plates and pots were empty, Fíli stood up, putting everything back on the tray. “If we want to convince him that we will be his humble servants, we should start now. Come on, kitchen seems to be this way. We will do the washing up.”

Thorin looked at his nephew with angry eyes that his heir could even suggest something like this. But then he remembered their status in this household and simply nodded and followed the boys through a nice dining room into a cosy and warm kitchen.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

Bilbo had dragged his old bathtub from the side of the bathroom back into the middle. The pipes his father had installed had been state of the art at that time, but they would only fill the main tub with hot water. For the second one he had to heat up the water in the big kettles that hung over a spacious fireplace at the side of the room.

Boiling two kettles and a big pot of water he filled the tub’s up as fast as he could and added scented oil as well. Preparing big towels and lavender-soap for his guests, he thought that he needed to find some dry clothes for them as well.

They had looked soaked through and through and it would take at least a night and a day for their clothes to dry completely. Less if he kept the fire going and divided them between this room and the laundry room next door. For today he would have to find something in his own stocks. Trousers would be easy, if he correct in his estimation of the dwarrows form. Shirts not so much, because his guests seemed rather heavily built with a lot of muscle on their arms and torso, especially Thorin.

Bilbo shook his head again and called himself a fool for remembering every detail about the dwarrows’ figures when returning to the living room. It was just for practical reasons he tried to persuade himself. They needed clothes and he’d better find them some that fitted. Otherwise they would be useless.

 

He was rather confused when he couldn’t find his guests in the living room, but followed the clatter of plates and silver right into the kitchen. This time the dwarrows noticed his approach because the moment Bilbo had stepped through the door Fíli asked him: “We have cleaned them, but we don’t know where to place them.”

Instantly the hobbit rushed into his kitchen and looked at the clean dishes. “You shouldn’t do that. I would have cleaned up everything before attending to supper.”

This time Thorin remembered his place so he corrected the hobbit in a softer tone: “We are here to help you. And washing up is hardly hard work.”

Bilbo couldn’t help himself but smile again, gratefully this time, before admitting. “Well, you sure are a great help. This will give me time to find something dry for you to wear. Please come, I will show you the bathroom. The water should be ready by now. I just hope you don’t mind sharing,” turning towards the younger dwarrows he looked at them questioningly.

“We don’t mind sharing, Master B… Bilbo,” was Kíli’s swift reply.

Hope sprouted in Fíli’s soul. If they could persuade the hobbit that they were a two-for-one deal, nothing that could happen would be too bad. So he stepped up to his brother and protectively put his hand on Kíli’s shoulder while explaining: “We do everything together, Ma… Bilbo. It’s alright, really. We don’t mind sharing at all.”

Delighted by the information, the hobbit guided them towards his bathroom, oblivious to the hopeful looks the two younger Durins exchanged with their uncle, before following their host.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

They were taken aback by the steamy bathroom. Showing them where new towels and the soap and the brushes and combs lay, Bilbo left his guests to their own devices moments later. Thorin chose the larger, modern tub for the two boys, opting for the wooden vat himself, and couldn’t help but smile at Kíli’s groan as he sank into the steaming water alongside his brother.

Not that Thorin would have admitted that, but until now the hobbit had been thoroughly helpful and supportive. When the tension of the travel seeped out of his muscles in the hot water, he mused that maybe it would not be that bad to spend the rest of his life with a creature that was so hospitable.

Bilbo Baggins was an interesting halfling. So very different from the thain his father has conversed with. He was happy and excited, friendly and caring.

Even his look was completely different than the dark-haired gloomy hobbit they had encountered in the morning. His locks shone like woven copper and gold in the sunlight and his brown eyes gleamed with delight whenever he could do something for them. His face was soft and kind and Thorin had to admit that, at least to himself.

The dwarven prince hated what he was forced to do, truly detested the path he has been set upon by the thain of the Shire as well as his king.

But there really was no way around it. So he had to think of a way to charm this tiny creature. To make him believe that he could be humble and subservient and obedient. He had no clue how to do this, but for now he would enjoy the few blessed minutes he was allowed in the hot tub, washing away all the grime and the dirt of the road.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

After a good while, when the dwarrows emerged from the bathroom, Bilbo was at their side, a wet cloak in his hands. Instantly Thorin recognized it, and couldn’t keep himself from barking: “What are you doing with my cloak?”

“I tried to hang it up to dry it, but the laundry room is full, so I will have to place it in front of the fireplace in the living room”, shaking his head as if it was the most stupid question imaginable Bilbo dashed away and returned but a moment later, telling his guests: “Now I will show you your rooms. Kíli, Fíli you will share a guest-room. I have put fresh trousers and shirts out, so you have something to wear, until your clothes are dry. Just through this door.”

Opening the doorway to the room most of his nephews and nieces inhabited when visiting, he showed the boys a nice, cosy place with a blazing fire. The two beds were covered with furs he had bought only recently. A red and a blue shirt, alongside with soft, linen trousers sat at the end of each bed.

 

The boys instantly went for them so Bilbo left them on their own after informing them, that dinner would be served in an hour. He hated to admit but there wouldn’t be enough time to prepare a suitable both the supper and the dinner, because setting the clothes to dry and finding suitable garments had taken too much of his time. But he would make it up to them with the most amazing dinner.

With that thought he smiled at Thorin before showing him the room next to his nephews’. “It’s a single bedroom. I hope you don’t mind.”

He watched the dwarf carefully when he entered the room that would be his home for the rest of the summer. Even clad in a towel Thorin really left an impression. He was strong and unyielding and one could even call him regal. At that thought Bilbo laughed a little and rifled his curls. What a stupid thought. What kind of royal would be willing to serve a bunch of hobbits with their repairs for the duration of a summer? Nevertheless, he was unable to keep himself from watching the king who inspected his room. He was suddenly anxious when the man froze, spotting the metal plate over the fireplace.

“Do you like it? I can put it down. I just thought you would prefer metalwork over the picture of spring scene.” Bilbo was nervous when Thorin didn’t say anything, but stepped up to the ornament and touched it nearly reverently. His voice was low when he asked: “Do you know what this means?”

When the inquisitive eyes of the dwarf fell on the hobbit, Bilbo could just shake his head. Returning his attention to the decoration Thorin explained: “These are dwarven-letters. They read >Mahal< in the language of old. He’s the creator of my people, the god that made us all.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but exhale in relief at that revelation and stated with a smile: “I hoped it would suit when I spotted it on the marketplace two weeks ago.”

“You bought this for me? Only recently?” Thorin’s head whipped around and once again his blue eyes were focused on the hobbit.

The sudden attention seemed to make Bilbo uneasy and he intertwined his fingers while explaining: “Well, not for you personally, but for the person that would inhabit this room.”

“Why?” once more Thorin’s voice was inquisitive and demanding.

Bilbo just shrugged before explaining: “Well as I said, I thought you might prefer it over the dancing fauntlings that had hung there before. I wanted to make sure you’d feel welcome and at home.”

Thorin looked at Bilbo for a very long time, judging if the halfling was telling the truth or making it all up. But when he couldn’t see any deception in his eyes, not the slightest trace of deceit, he returned his attention towards the letters again and said in a low voice, “Yes.”

“Yes what?” now Bilbo was confused and it showed in his voice.

Thorin touched the metal, fingers trailing over the hard lines and the intertwining segments, and admitted: “Yes, I like it, a lot.”

With a relieved smile Bilbo stepped back and closed the door, leaving his guest to his own devices, and made his way to the kitchen. He would prepare a feast for his new guests. One that would show them how very welcome they were at Bag End.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	7. More Hobbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarrows first experiences with hobbits. Their own as well as others.

Thorin looked into the mirror and decided that he looked utterly ridiculous. While the shirt that the hobbit had provided him with fitted quite well, the same could not be said about the pants. They were comfortable around the waist but didn’t even fall over his lower leg. The length might be appropriate for a hobbit of Bilbo Baggins’s height, but it sure as hell didn’t fit a future king.

Exhaling tiredly Thorin realized that beggars couldn’t be choosers. The clothes had been provided by his host and they – while ill-fitting – were definitely better than his wet ones.

Deciding that nothing could be done about his looks, Thorin left the room again, to look for his nephews. Both of them had dressed as well, and they were not much better off than Thorin, at least from what he could see – their naked feet tangled and partly hanging over the end of the bed..

Sparing them further interaction with their hobbit, their uncle closed the door silently, wandering through the hobbit hole in search for his host. When he finally heard him, he looked around the corner, only to find him standing in front of his door, in deep conversation with a female hobbit in a bright dress with clashing colours, holding a basket just like in the afternoon.

Looking down he resigned himself to the fate of being the laughing stock of the Shire, first presented in ill-fitting clothes and loose braids. He steeled himself for being called forward – he wouldn’t reveal himself willingly – when he finally picked up on the conversation.

Bilbo’s voice was polite but firm when he stated: “Thank you very much, Lobelia. I will make sure that my guests get your famous scones.”

The woman’s, Lobelia’s voice was nasal and slightly unpleasant when she answered: “Yes, well, I would love to greet them myself. They have had such a long journey and should know that they are welcome in our midst.”

Thorin prepared himself to step around the corner and into full view of the door when called upon, as he saw Bilbo turning around towards him. Meeting the dwarf’s eyes for a second, the hobbit shook his head slightly. Staying where he was, Thorin could hear Bilbo saying firmly: “That’s really nice of you, but I am afraid you are correct. My guests have had a long and strenuous journey and are unfit to receive anyone tonight. Surely you wouldn’t want to impose on them, would you?”

The rebuff was quite obvious but masked behind pleasant words, so that the female hobbit really couldn’t do anything but retreat, and after the exchange of pleasant wishes for a good night, Bilbo closed the door and leaned against it with a huff.

Thorin didn’t know how to feel in that very moment. On the one hand he was tremendously grateful that Bilbo had spared him the embarrassing encounter, on the other hand he couldn’t explain why the halfling had done it. Were the circumstances different, Thorin didn’t know if he would spare his servants being presented to others, no matter their clothing. After a moment he asked cautiously: “Why did you send her away?”

With a humourless laugh Bilbo picked up the hamper the woman had brought and stated: “To deal with Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, you need to be well rested and well fed. Believe me. Terrible, noisy woman she is. The last time I had her over for tea, two of my favourite mugs were missing afterwards. Not one but two! Can you imagine? When I asked her about them afterwards, she simply stated that she had wanted to borrow them, to get similar ones made for herself. Dreadful woman, really dreadful!”

The hobbit made his way towards the kitchen and Thorin followed silently on bare feet. He had looked at his muddy boots that sat beside the door and chose not to put them on. Everything was so neat and tidy in here, his host surely wouldn’t appreciate him dragging dirt everywhere. The hobbit-hole was warm and airy, comfortable and light. Thorin couldn’t imagine any place to be more different from his rooms in the Blue Mountains. The walls of his chambers were made of stone, and while it was laced with vines of gold and silver, enlaced with shards of gems to make them look even more suitable for the heir of the throne, they missed the cosy feeling Bilbo’s hole radiated. His bed and benches were covered with rich furs, but the colourful pillows that could be found in his bed here and on every surface, suitable for sitting in Bag End made a much more homely impression.

Entering the warm kitchen he found Bilbo putting Lobelia’s welcome gift’s on a plate. Suddenly he was presented with a golden-brown scone, he found to be slightly when he picked it up and a knob of butter alongside it. Breaking open the soft bread it instantly filled the kitchen with the most delicious smell of fresh baking and when he put on the butter, it melted on the baked good in the same moment, running over his finger along the way. Mischievously the halfling said: “She might be an annoyance, but her scones are the best this side of Bree. Try one. Dinner will take another hour.”

Lost for what to do, Thorin bit into it and soon found out that the hobbit was not exaggerating. These little breads were practically melting inside of his mouth. The soft scone had a warm and rich flavour to it and the butter with it seemed to accompany it perfectly. Thorin could all but keep himself from groaning at the delicious taste and instantly wished that he could grab a second one. But Bilbo obviously planned them to accompany their dinner later, so he refrained from doing so. But he didn’t let them out of his eyes until Bilbo stepped up to him again.

As soon as he had finished his little meal, he was presented with a sack of potatoes and a knife. Obviously his host expected him to help with dinner. Suspicious of the vegetable, Thorin stabbed it once, before trying to cut off the peel.

Bilbo started to season a few fishes he had caught only yesterday with lemon juice and a little pepper until he noticed Thorin’s awkward attempts to peel the round vegetables.

“Haven’t you ever peeled potatoes before?” the question was only slightly curious but mostly worried that his guest would injure himself. When Thorin shook his head with a mighty frown on his face, Bilbo offered: “Do you want to cut the vegetables?”

“Yes, that would be better. Thank you. Sorry for making such a mess.” Thorin was terribly embarrassed that he had already failed the second task given by his little Master, but swallowed the feeling and attended to the vegetables with a vengeance, swiftly cutting them in small slices.

After a while he started to feel comfortable and wondered for a moment about the reason for it. But the sight of Bilbo peeling the potatoes with skilled fingers in front of the fire, humming a merry melody, surely had a homey feeling to it. The scene reminded Thorin so much of his mother, when he had watched her cooking, that he had to swallow forcefully to supress the feeling of homesickness.

Bilbo started singing when he put the potatoes into a pot to cook them, before preparing the fish for frying. The kitchen was filled with a delicious smell of potatoes, garlic and a little rosemary and when his host started to repeat a song Thorin caught himself humming along.

The fishes were just roasting in the pan when Fíli and Kíli looked around the corner. “What’s that delicious smell?” “Is this dinner?” Both looked eagerly onto the stove and Bilbo shoved them aside with an amused laugh before telling them to set the table. He even ignored them nicking a scone from the plate and sharing it between them. These brothers truly seemed inseparable.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

After a rather friendly dinner where he stuffed his guests with a fresh salad of cucumber and radicchio with a garlic mayonnaise for starters, that was accompanied by bread he had baked only this morning in preparation for their arrival. The bread has been roasted over the fire, some pieces of it laced with garlic-butter, some with sesame and a few of them just with plain butter. The fish went with delicious rosemary potatoes, and honey-glazed carrots and onions. Then there were the scones with more creamy butter and delicious strawberry-marmalade and a rich, chocolate cake after that. The meal ended with Bilbo fetching a tray where several varieties of cheese were presented, to “close the meal” as he stated. And of course there were fresh fruits and nuts in little bowl’s all over the table, that matched the different sorts of cheese perfectly.

After being stuffed up to their beards, the dwarrows excused themselves to retreat to their rooms. Bilbo bade them a friendly “good-night” before enjoying a late pipe in the warm spring air, in front of his hole. All in all not a bad start for his new house guests.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

Thorin bade his nephews a good night, reminding them to be careful. He didn’t know how Bilbo would react to seeing them side by side in one bed, but he highly doubted that the hobbit would be fine with it. Even most of the dwarrows who hadn’t known Fíli and Kíli for the most part of their lives frowned upon the boys when they did more than tag along with each other. The love they had and the tension they felt when being separated remained unnoticed by most dwarrows that were not family. But Thorin, like his sister Dís, like the royal advisor Balin, was aware of their relationship, but they all kept it a secret in favour of protecting the princes.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

The next morning all three dwarrows were woken by the smell of fresh baked bread and hot tea weaving through the hobbit hole. Thorin rose almost instantly and prepared for the day, but Fíli and Kíli stayed in bed a little longer, unable to let go of each other because of the uncertainty of what the day would bring.

Finally Kíli whispered: “Do you think he will assign us different tasks? That he will separate us?”

Fíli, always the protector, held tight the young man in his arms and gently kissed his neck. Whispering he assured Kíli: “Then we will tell him that we work best together. Bilbo Baggins seemed kind and caring yesterday. Have a little faith, brother.”

After a moment’s hesitation Fíli could feel Kíli nodding and turned him around. Gently cupping his face, he brushed over the younger one’s prominent cheekbones and the slight stubble on his chin. Leaning into his brother and sharing a loving kiss he whispered: “Everything will be alright, I promise, Kíli. He will not take you from me, nor me from you.”

After that he dragged his brother up, and they redressed into the hobbit’s clothes.

 

Bilbo was positively cheerful when he offered them breakfast and afterwards pointed them to his laundry room. He planned to show them the places where they would help over the summer after they were through with their washing.

The boys couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the expression on their uncle’s face, masking it behind an extensive cough that had Bilbo worried and offering them more tea. Never had they seen their uncle look more affronted when presented with a task. He was the heir of the Blue Mountains, the future king! The prospect of doing his own laundry did not sit well with him.

But the alternative was to have no clean clothes or wearing the short trousers of the hobbit around the clock. This outlook alone made him see reason and when Fíli and Kíli insisted on helping Bilbo in the kitchen with the washing up, he retreated with his traveling clothes into the direction of the laundry room. Being rather confused about the amount of soap-powder and water that was needed, he used a fair amount of both, before throwing his garments into the keg and rubbing them against each other. Soon he was wet from neck to knees and covered in lather. Some of the soap has even reached his braids and covered his bead’s, so that he looked as if he had little snowballs dangling from his head.

Kíli entered not long after that, with two arms full of clothes, and really couldn’t supress the laughter this time. Gently he nudged Thorin aside and threw his and Fíli’s clothes into the water as well. He found a washboard and started to clean all of their clothes, leaving it to Thorin to rinse them out.

Thorin was more than a little surprised by his nephew’s skill and asked: “How do you know how to do this?”

Kíli just shrugged and said: “I really detest tending for leather and steel, Fíli doesn’t like washing clothes, so we divide the work.”

A little suspicious, the older prince asked: “And where is your brother now?”

“Helping Mister Boggins in the kitchen. Can you imagine, he apologized for only cooking one dinner yesterday, apparently we were supposed to have two! And this morning we woke up so late that we missed first breakfast. Just now that was second breakfast. And at around eleven o’clock they have something they call elevensies and between one and two they have lunch. Then there is tea we arrived just in time for yesterday.” Laughing a little Kíli added: “I think Fíli is a little stunned by the amount of meals and food hobbits are eating during the day. Have you seen Bilbo? I ask myself where does all the food go? He should be round like a ball by now.”

That image made even Thorin smile. After taking down their dried travelling gear and hanging up their shirts and trousers they returned to their rooms to change.

When meeting with his nephews afterwards, Thorin pondered: “I wonder what he will have us doing. This morning he didn’t sound like he wants to keep our services solely in the house. Good that we have our dried clothes back.” Thorin was more than a little relieved at that point. He couldn’t do anything about being “hired out” to other hobbits – although he hoped that they would be more like Bilbo and less like the Lobelia woman he had seen yesterday – but he still didn’t wish to present himself in anything else but his own gear.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

After aforementioned elevensies, where Bilbo had offered the dwarves another round of scones with cheese and tea, he guided them out of his hobbit hole and into town. All three Durin’s wore their own clothes once again and were truly grateful for it, because they were stared at in the most obvious manner. And while Thorin held his regal posture, Fíli and Kíli shrank back a little, uncomfortable with being on display.

But Bilbo – oblivious towards his guests’ nervousness – just chattered merrily, explained about the owners of every hobbit-hole they passed by and every market-stand they saw. After about twenty minutes they arrived at an empty building. The hobbit opened the door with a key he produced out of one of the many pockets of his waistcoat. Entering a cold forge he turned towards Thorin.

“Fíli said that you have worked in a forge before. So I hoped that you would find it acceptable to work around here. Our blacksmith died two years ago and until now we haven’t found a successor.” Bilbo watched Thorin attentively to find out if his proposition was acceptable for the dwarf.

He was taken aback a little by the honest smile that spread on Thorin’s face when he stepped up to the furnace and started to inspect it with keen eyes.

 

Thorin himself was delighted with the prospect of working with metal once again. He had had far too little time for it since the loss of Erebor, and the jobs he had done in the cities of Men had been humbling and badly paid. But now – having expected to sweep dust and clean floors – he found that he was extremely grateful for the opportunity to put his talents to work. Therefore he nodded with a grateful smile and answered: “I would be happy to work here.”

Exhaling in relief Bilbo offered him the key and explained: “Everything should be in order. If something is missing, please tell me. I will make sure you will get it. I will bring Fíli and Kíli over to the Chubbs where they will be working and will return afterwards.”

 

The woodcarver’s house was not far off, and when the dwarrows arrived there, Amanda Chubb opened the door as soon as she spotted them. She carried a crying baby on each arm and greeted them with a radiant smile on her face. Putting one baby in Fíli’s and one in Kíli’s arms, she hugged Bilbo and told him delighted: “We are so grateful that you are finally here, nephew. The orders are piling up, we are in dire need of help.”

During her last sentence she had turned from Bilbo to Fíli and Kíli and hugged them both as if they were family.

Both dwarrows were horribly nervous because of the scene that had unfolded before their eyes, especially when they found themselves with two tiny hobbits in their arms. They were holding the two newborns as if they were made of glass, scared that they might accidentally hurt or worse drop them. But the mother didn’t seem to think anything of it, especially when the babies stopped crying as soon as they found themselves in the arms of the dwarrows. Excited, they both grabbed the braids that dangled over the brothers’ shoulders, and happily started to suckle at the beads before yawning and falling asleep while held by the young princes.

Fíli and Kíli instantly turned towards Bilbo, proud smiles on their faces, showing off the sleeping babies. They looked so proud as if they had just slain a dragon – no pun intended here. The mother could not be happier about that development and guided the boys into the house, where they would meet with Falco Chubb-Baggins – Bilbo’s first cousin – to discuss their work in the workshop.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

Bilbo was absolutely delighted that he had found jobs for the dwarrows where they could do so much good and help so many people, so he decided to celebrate it with a rather extravagant lunch from the marketplace. Knowing that there was no one at the smithy to take care of Thorin, he would have to take it upon himself to make sure that the dwarf had everything he needed. He would also take care of feeding him during his work-day because he highly doubted that Thorin was the type of dwarf, who would stop his work in favour of preparing himself a first, or even a second lunch.

When he returned to the blacksmith’s shop more than an hour later, he found the fire ignited once again. It was a good and homey feeling after several seasons without it.

To his utter surprise the shop was crowded with hobbits. Everybody seemed to be talking to Thorin at once. Some were showing off broken tools, demanding to be the first to get their instruments repaired, because they had talked with the old blacksmith about it and he had promised his help. And while no one was rude or overly demanding, Thorin looked positively overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in the forge.

Being well aware what kind of impression his good neighbours were making right now, Bilbo took it upon himself to save Thorin from them. Climbing upon a barrel that sat beside the workshop, he put two fingers into his mouth and whistled as loud as he could.

When he got everybody’s undivided attention he announced in a clear voice: “I am sure that we all want to say our thanks to Thorin Oakenshield, who has graciously agreed to work in our forge over the summer months. However, I think it would be best if we left Mr. Oakenshield to his own devices for now, until he has an overview of the state of the blacksmith’s shop. He will tell you immediately, when he is ready to take the first commissions. Until then, please leave him room to breathe and make himself at home in our beloved town. Thank you very much.”

Jumping down from the barrel, not wanting to give his fellow hobbits time to think, Bilbo entered the forge and closed the door behind himself with a polite but firm ‘thud’.

Opening a few windows that went out to the backyard, so that the room was flooded with sunlight, he smiled at a stunned Thorin.

“I didn’t know that small people like you could be so loud.” Thorin was still a little shocked by the encounter, because as soon as he had ignited the forge – after making sure that the chimney and the furnace were in good working order – he had been swarmed by hobbits of all sizes and shapes. He had not even been able to introduce himself, because suddenly all of them had talked at the same time and all he could do was make his stand and not let himself be pushed back against the forge by the overexcited crowd.

When he – once again – realized how rude his comment had been, he lowered his head immediately and apologized: “I am sorry, Master Baggins, I didn’t want to criticize your people, it’s just…” Interrupting himself, clearly looking for words, he continued after a moment: “I am grateful that you came along. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

He could have shouted, demanded attention and order. He had commanded armies, but none of these actions would have persuaded the hobbits that dwarves could be humble and supportive. Bilbo really had come like a saviour and whether he liked to admit it or not, Thorin was truly glad for the hobbit’s presence right now.

Bilbo, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be annoyed at all. It seemed that there were very few ways to evoke this tiny creature’s ire. Only that Lobelia woman yesterday had done so successfully. But for now the halfling just laughed and brushed off Thorins apology, in favour of laying out a small lunch for them to feast upon, before helping Thorin with the inventory.

Over the course of the afternoon Thorin started to look at the hobbit with newfound respect. He was clever and swift to recognise a smith’s needs. When they were through with cataloguing everything, he made a list of what was needed and dashed out in the late afternoon to get everything in it for Thorin.

 

Looking after the little man, Thorin picked up a band of metal he had found earlier. It was a small band of silver and Thorin started with heating it, evening it out and hammering dwarven runes into one side. After smoothing it, so that there would be no hard edges, he bent it, with the letters on the inside, so that it would make a suitable bracelet for his host. At last he cleaned it off and polished it with a rag he had found in one of the cupboards.

He wanted to make a good impression. That was the reason for this trinket. Somehow it felt right to create the first piece of metal in this forge for their host, the one that had called upon them to serve him and those around him, but allowed them to do so it with dignity and pride. If there was a little wishful thinking on his part engraved into the metal, it would hurt no one. Especially because there were just three people in this land who knew what the letters would mean, and not one of them would see them again, at least Thorin hoped so. Because if his nephews found out about the inscription, he would never hear the end of their teasing, although it was a good wish for all of them.

 

When Bilbo returned to tell Thorin that the goods he needed would arrive early the next day, he was completely stunned when the smith presented him with a small, silver bracelet. It was no broader than a thumb and exactly long enough to fit his wrist. Admiring the beautiful and flawless work, he noticed the small inscriptions on the inside. As he looked up at Thorin with curious eyes, the dwarf busied himself with putting away his work-gear, banking the fire but ensured that it would not go out completely overnight. His answer was evasive when he finally said: “It’s just an inscription. Most dwarrows do it when they make something. Most of the time it’s the smith’s name or a blessing for the gods. It will bring you luck, Master Baggins.”

“Bilbo, please, and it’s--” obviously lost for words, Bilbo placed the bracelet on his wrist before continuing: “It’s really beautiful. Thank you very much.”

He looked up at Thorin with a blinding smile on his face and the dwarf couldn’t help but smile back. He had not expected his host to be so delighted about a simple, uncarved bracelet without gems or stones or decorations on the outside. But seeing it on Bilbo’s wrist, he had to admit that it suited the little hobbit, and he was happy to have pleased his host so much. This bode well for all of their futures.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -


	8. Workplaces and Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few chosen words about Fíli and Kíli's first day on their new Workplaces.  
> Afterwards, things get broken, but can be mended, for all inhabitants of Bag End.

The dwarf and the hobbit left the forge when the sun began to colour the horizon. Bilbo already knew that supper would be a hurried affair - something that never boded well for a meal - but they had to pick up Fíli and Kíli before returning to Bag End. The halfling decided that he would improvise baked breads with ham and cheese for the first meal of the evening. A green salad with onions alongside it would be lovely. That would leave him time to prepare a decent dinner for later. He was already going through the possibilities his pantry offered, ham or cheese, baked bread with onion soup or a simple roast? His steps became lighter and more excited with every minute they came closer to home.

Thorin enjoyed the evening walk through the Shire. He had been nervous at midday, when they had first approached the centre of the village – well, not nervous, that was no suitable feeling for a future king, and he was surrounded by hobbits after all, not particularly fearsome creatures – but now he could enjoy the scenery and smile at the many hobbits who waved at him in a friendly manner.

His unease only made itself known once again when they approached the woodworker‘s workshop. How had Fíli and Kíli done during the day? Had they kept in mind why they were here? Had they been polite and subservient? Usually these were not their strong traits.

They were no strong traits for Thorin either, but he had done his very best today to be polite and supportive and not overly arrogant.

When they finally reached the house of Falco and Amanda Chubb, the most prominent noise they heard was the deafening cry of babies. These sounds were swiftly followed by an excited shout from his youngest nephew: „Fíli, they are awake again! Hurry!“ And all he could spot was a mop of dark hair that dashed from the workshop towards the main house, entering it without knocking.

Thorin blanched instantly and looked at Bilbo with worry. Shouting in another one’s home was not only impolite, but downright rude, even dwarrows knew that. But the hobbit didn‘t seem fazed by Kíli‘s behaviour, not even in the slightest. That was something truly astounding for Thorin, because until now Bilbo Baggins had been the personification of polite behaviour. He didn’t even blink when a half-naked Fíli followed his brother, clad only in his pants and boots, and disappeared into the smial.

Not half a minute later the crying stopped. The dwarven prince could not help but look at Bilbo in utter confusion, but was only met with joyful laughter and a gesture towards the workshop.

Bilbo‘s voice was good-natured when he said: „I think we should leave them time to change. I would like to introduce you to my cousin Falco Chubb-Baggins. The boys will be helping him over the summer. As you have heard, he was blessed with twins and has a lot on his hands right now.“

Thorin could only nod and tag along, when another hobbit emerged from the building next to the hole. When he saw Bilbo he instantly hugged him for a greeting and did the same with a tremendously stunned Thorin. His voice was friendly and thrilled when he said: „You must be Thorin. Falco, Falco Chubb-Baggins, I am so grateful that you brought those two over. They really are a blessing. Have you heard the little ones? They are completely smitten with Fíli and Kíli, start to cry instantly when they put them down. Of course it is hard to work with a fauntling on the arm, but those two are incredibly helpful. Are you sure that you can only stay over the summer? I could use their help at least until next year!“

Completely taken aback by the warm welcome, Thorin was lost for words, all he could do was stammer a little: „Ahm … yes, I suppose, I mean, I‘m afraid we have to return to the Blue Mountains at the end of the summer.“ Looking towards Bilbo for help, he felt the hobbit put his small palm on his arm to comfort him - something that felt both welcome and strange to Thorin at the same time - and took over the conversation with his cousin.

„I am sorry, Falco, but they are really only here over the summer. Maybe we can invite them again next year. But for now I am afraid you will have to make do, as long as you have Fíli and Kíli at your disposal.“

Shrugging Falco closed the topic and instantly gave Thorin a wide smile: „Come with me. I bet Amanda would love to meet Fíli and Kíli‘s uncle.“ Without waiting for a reply the hobbit started to drag the dwarf towards his house. Personal space seemed to be a foreign concept for these hobbits, and physical interaction came as naturally as breathing.

This hobbit-hole was not as big or as richly furnished as Bag End, something Thorin noticed the instant they entered. But Bilbo seemed to make himself at home easily and hugged another hobbit with chocolate-brown curls, whose hands were covered in dough up to her elbows.

Smiling brightly at yet another dwarf, she hugged him slightly awkwardly, so not to get any pastry on his clothes. „You must be Uncle Thorin. Fíli and Kíli have told us so much about you. Thank you for bringing them here. They are really great and so very supportive. They are even able to change diapers now.“

All three hobbits laughed highly amused when they saw the stunned expression on Thorin‘s face at that revelation. The boys chose exactly that moment to come around the corner with two newborns in their arms. Kíli beamed in delight when he announced: „Look who‘s here. Uncle Thorin! Do you want to meet him, baby-girl?“

Fíli followed suit, looking at his uncle with a proud smile: „We have changed their diapers, twice already! And we have repaired the workbench in the workshop. Really good for the first day!“ before trailing after his brother to let the baby-boy in his arms get a good look at his uncle.

Both fauntlings seemed to look at Thorin with curious eyes, and the dwarven prince was oblivious of the attentive looks of the three hobbits, when he watched the children. They were so incredibly tiny, even smaller than Kíli had been as a newborn. Incredibly tenderly he brushed away a lock of Fíli‘s hair, that seemed to dangle into the eyes of the little boy his nephew was holding.

Fíli and Kíli‘s eyes met over Thorin‘s head. It had been a really long time since they had seen their uncle with such a soft expression on his face. It had been in Erebor when they had been so much younger. They were nearly too young to remember their former home.

But they did remember their parents, and their uncle who had been so very protective of them, although secretly encouraging them to explore the mountain on their own, so that they would know what they would rule one day.

The blond dwarf put the child in his uncle’s arms, who took it without hesitation, supporting the head and smiling joyously, when the little boy grabbed onto his hair, and started to clench and unclench his fingers around one of his dark locks. Fíli stayed close in case of the baby wishing to return to him, but leaned his head against his taller brother’s shoulder, smiling at their uncle who looked down at the hobbit-baby adoringly.

They retreated when Amanda stepped up to them after a little while. Her voice was friendly when she asked Thorin gently: „Will you give him back, or do you want to keep him?“ Thorin, being dragged out of his reverence for the little baby-boy - who looked so much and yet not at all like Kíli had so many years ago - swallowed a little before putting the fauntling into his mother’s, now clean, arms. His voice was a little thick when he apologized: „I am sorry. I didn’t mean to keep him from you.“

The smile was still present and the dwarf knew it to be honest, but the words were underlying with steel when the woman stated: „You wouldn‘t be in my house, Thorin Oakenshield, if I thought you capable of that.“

Beaming at him after that statement, she turned to Bilbo: „If you can‘t stay now, you have to promise to come over to lunch on Sunday! Please, Bilbo. It‘s been too long since we’ve have had you over, and your guests are truly delightful.“ After Bilbo‘s promise to return in three days’ time, she took her daughter from Kíli - who seemed to let go of the baby rather reluctantly - before returning to the kitchen to get a little snack for her babies.

 

Fíli had grabbed his shirt, and everybody had said their good-byes, both boys chattered merrily all through their walk to Bag End. They talked about how nice these people were and how brilliant the food. Kíli was delighted by the prospect of working with a woodcarver and Fíli enjoyed helping with making handles, tools and other useful gear. Altogether Thorin found his boys to be happy and that helped him a great deal to relax.

Upon their return home Bilbo prepared a swift supper before they all went to enjoy a little time separated from each other. The hobbit was making good use of his bathroom, before offering it to his guests. The dwarrows were checking on their clothes, relocating their things to their rooms, all the while reminiscing  about their day.

A little while later, they all found themselves in the kitchen, listening to Bilbo‘s joyful singing when he prepared dinner. Thorin even allowed himself to relax with his pipe, stuffed with a delicious pipe-weed his host had offered, and Fíli and Kíli sat entangled on the plush bench in front of the window. If Bilbo noticed their unusual closeness he didn‘t say anything, but for a moment, Thorin thought he saw a smile on the hobbit’s face when he looked at the boys’ reflection in one of his highly polished copper pans.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

It took them but three days to settle into a comfortable rhythm. Bilbo started his day early with a quiet breakfast on his own, before preparing a luxurious second breakfast with bacon and eggs, hot scones and deliciously fragrant tea for his houseguests. The dwarrows would enjoy their first meal together, before going their separate ways to their respective jobs.

On the first day Bilbo went with Thorin to make sure that everything he had ordered on the market was delivered in time, so the dwarf would have everything he needed to work properly. It took only another day until he was able to start working for the hobbits who continued to look in on the smith‘s workshop - some of them three or four times a day - only to get a look at him. Bilbo even brought along a book where he could write down the names and the orders of the clients.

Thorin was astounded when he was handsomely paid for his first mending jobs. He had not provided steel or tool, only skill to mend a broken rake and a bent shovel, and his clients were more generous with their coin than Men had been in the cities where Thorin had worked before.

The Sunday lunch at the house of Falco and Amanda Chubb-Baggins was delightful and did a great deal to ease Thorin and Bilbo‘s nerves about how the boys were doing. Bilbo had noticed on their second day in Bag End that they enjoyed riling those around them with little pranks. For example on the third day after their arrival, all of his flour had been missing, his pots filled with sugar instead. To teach them not to mess with the food, he had refused to give them even a single scone and sent them on their way with a stern look. Thorin had looked worried at that lesson, but had relaxed noticeably when Bilbo winked at him when they were gone, dragging two large vases out of his pantry that held the missing flour.

 

So the lives of the Durins were exciting and full of new discoveries. Calm and content in a way they could never have been in the Blue Mountains. Worrying but increasingly hopeful when each day passed and they all grew together, learning each other’s quirks and supporting one another the best they could. Especially Thorin really made an effort. Being silently supportive, taking care of the washing up and the cleaning, at least with the things the boys left lying around.

In the middle of the second week - after returning from work a little earlier than usual - he found his host lying under his sink, cursing vehemently. Instantly worried that something was wrong, Thorin approached him swiftly. But seeing the heavy dwarven boots beside his hairy feet, Bilbo just encouraged the dwarf to take his boots off - something he seemingly was unable to get into the dwarrows’ heads - before dragging himself out from under his sink.

When Thorin returned with bare feet, Bilbo told him about the problem with the plumbing and the strange, rattling noise he had heard three times so far, and then  offered him tea and biscuits.

When the boys retuned that evening, Thorin informed them about the quirk in the pipes and instantly all three of them were eager to fix the problem. It all ended with a flooded kitchen and a little crab rescued from the piping. After everything had been cleaned up, all four of them sat in the back garden tired but content, with cheese and butter, nuts and fruits along with fresh bread for their supper. But they all enjoyed the cold meal, because their hobbit was smiling brilliantly at them, thanking them profusely for their help.

 

These perfect living arrangements went to pieces nearly two weeks after the dwarrows’ arrival at Bag End. Bilbo had been busy in the kitchen, baking a gigantic ham in his oven, when he heard Fíli and Kíli entering, chattering excitingly about the first words they had heard the babies babble. Bilbo had just laughed and shooed them out with a swift: „Yes, you are such heroes, getting newborns to talk. Now get out of my kitchen and take off your boots!“

Overly excited, the boys started a friendly brawl on their way through the living room, about which baby had talked first, and when they finally arrived in front of the door, they were sparring rather heavily. Thorin entered that moment, trying to separate the boys, but only managed to get them off course, so he would not be trampled by them. That motion however made Kíli take an unfortunate step back, right into a wooden chest that stood beside the door. That might not have been so bad, but Fíli followed in his footsteps - quite literally – to keep himself from banging his head against the wall. Both of them survived the encounter unharmed, but the chest they had fallen upon crashed under their combined weight.

Scrambling to their feet, all three dwarrows looked at each other with unease and worry, when they found the container broken and the things it had contained partly spread over the floor.

Having heard the brawling and the splintering of wood, Bilbo prayed on his way from the kitchen to the front door that the stool beside the door was not broken beyond repair. He liked that particular chair. He had bought it on the market last year and had had Falco restore it for the price of one apple pie per week, for four Sundays in a row. When he saw the item that had fallen victim to the boys’ excitement he blanched. His mother’s beloved glory-box lay in pieces.

With a devastated look on his face, he stepped up to the chest and gathered all the toys it had contained, and carried everything to his room. He closed the door behind himself without making a single sound. He wanted to cry out. Shout at those clumsy dwarrows with their cursed boots. But that would not only be impolite but utterly useless.

His mother’s chest was broken, the hinges were bent, the top was fractured and the front was broken off and no amount of yelling would undo the damage. Putting it on his bed, taking out each and every one of his toys he kept in there for his nieces and nephews to play with, he curled up beside it and felt tears streaming down his cheeks.

He had always been so utterly careful with this special item. He should have placed it elsewhere when his guests had arrived. He had known that these dwarrows were not as light-footed as hobbits. But he had not thought about it and now an important keepsake of his mother’s lay in ruins before him. Brushing over the polished wood with the tips of his fingers, he fought down scenes that resurfaced from the depths of his mind. But he was not strong enough for that any more. Memories of his parents pushed into his conscious mind and there was nothing he could do about it.

He remembered his mother explaining to him for the first time what a glory box really was, and what it had contained prior to her wedding with his father. She had shown him the doilies and the tableware, the plates and the beautiful, richly embroidered tablecloth she had only taken out when they had guests.

The day she had given him permission to store his gardening tools in the box, alongside with some of his outdoor toys. He had been so proud of this. Bilbo had loved his first spatula and the small shovel and especially the tiny rake, all of them with shining red handles he had adored so much -- and being allowed to store them in a chest that meant so much for his mother had made the items even more valuable in his eyes.

He had kept the box right beside the door, where his mother has placed it last,  so that he would have his tools at hand whenever he needed them. To look at it made him believe for the fraction of a second each day, that his parents were still with him, made him choose the positioning of his furniture for his comfort as well as for theirs.

When after some time a timid knock could be heard, Bilbo dragged himself up and wiped the tears from his face, swallowing rather heavily. Without waiting for someone to open the door, he stated in a thick voice: „The ham should be ready by now. Please help yourself. I would prefer to be alone this evening.”

 

The door opened only a fraction, and Bilbo could see Kíli‘s face appear in the gap, but he really didn‘t want his guests so see him in his devastated state. So he tried again: „Kíli, please, just leave me alone. Go and have dinner!“

But obviously the dwarf was unable to let go. Begging in a low voice he said: „Bilbo, please. I am so sorry. I didn‘t mean to …“

He stopped his apology, when Bilbo rose from the bed, and stepped up to the door. With a firm look on his face - or at least as firm as he could muster at that moment - the hobbit stated: „It‘s alright, Kíli. I know it was an accident. Now please go and have dinner with your family!“

The young dwarf just shivered for a moment before lowering his head and retreated, so that Bilbo was able to close the door again. Tired and worn, the hobbit returned to his bed and curled up around his mother’s valued possession once again, closing his eyes and covering his mouth with his hands, so that his guests would not hear his heartbreaking sobs.

 

Thorin and Fíli sat in front of the fire in the living room. They really didn‘t feel like touching another piece of Bilbo‘s furniture at the moment, not even the chairs or the sofa. Both looked into the flames with worried eyes, silently awaiting Kíli‘s return. When the young dwarf finally came back, they looked at him and Thorin asked hesitantly: „Does he want us to leave?“

Kíli just passed them by on his way towards the kitchen. His voice was aggrieved when he said: „No, he said he knows that it was an accident and that he wants us to have dinner together. But I am not hungry at the moment.“ Shaking his head as if to convince himself of it, he continued: „Not hungry at all,“ before entering the kitchen.

They could hear him rummaging around and then the door to the pantry was opened. After a few moments Kíli returned with red eyes and sank down in front of the fire beside his uncle. Finally able to meet the older man‘s eyes, he whispered: „He is so hurt he is crying, uncle!“

Dragging himself into the older man‘s arms Kíli started to shake all over, crying now when he continued: „He has been nothing but kind to us and I have made him cry,“ before breaking down into sobs that neither his uncle, nor his brother could ease.

Hugging his older nephew as well, because he could see Fíli’s distress, he carefully cradled his boys in his arms, gently rubbing their backs, whispering words of encouragement in their ears with a low, soothing voice: „We will fix this. We will find a way and make this right again. I promise you.“ Looking into the dying fire, he just desperately wished that he had an idea how to achieve that.

 

 

 

It was long after midnight, the fire in the living room long gone cold, when they retreated to their rooms. No sound could be heard from the master bedroom, but they didn‘t dare do look into it, to make sure that Bilbo was alright. It took only a quarter of an hour before Thorin could hear the door to his chamber being opened again.

It had happened very often when they boys had been younger, when they were weary from traveling or afraid of an unfamiliar place. Them coming to his bed like scared children in the dark, had not happened for a long while, but tonight he had somehow anticipated it. Lifting his bedcover, he felt first Kíli and then Fíli slide in beside him. As he put an arm around each boy, they lay their heads on his shoulders, finally drifting into an uneasy sleep.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The sun had not risen yet when Thorin woke the next day. He instantly felt the loss of the two warm bodies at his sides, and when he looked around, his room was empty. Getting up, he swiftly dressed and went to look for his nephews.

The first thing he realized was that the door to the master bedroom was slightly open. Bilbo still lay on top of the bedcovers. Fully clad, shivering slightly in the morning breeze. Picking up a blanket from the end of the bed, Thorin covered his host with the thick quilt. Tiptoeing through the room, he closed the window and the thick curtains as well, to block out the sun and the sounds of the early day. Bilbo looked tired and worn, and Thorin thought it best for him to get as much sleep as possible.

When he finally reached the front door he realized that his nephews’ boots and cloaks were missing. Stepping into his shoes he enveloped himself in his richly furred travelling coat and followed them. He had a hunch where they might have gone.

 

Falco was just sitting in front of his house after first breakfast, smoking his pipe, when he saw Fíli and Kíli stepping up to the hole. They both had worked for the last ten days straight, to help him catch up with his orders, and had supported his wife as well wherever they could. So after ten days, Falco had decided that they deserved a day off. Therefore he had not expected to see them this morning, especially not at this early hour. Cleaning his pipe, he met them at the gate and looked at them questioningly.

Kíli held onto something, wrapped up lovingly in a dark blanket and when Fíli carefully peeled off the covering back, Falco blanched and understood the worn expression on the boys’ faces. „Goodness gracious!“ he gasped. „This is Belladonna’s glory box!“ Looking at the faces of the young dwarrows that usually towered over him, but seemed so small and timid now, he understood the sadness and the desperation they radiated.

Usually Kíli was cheerful by nature and his older brother allowed himself to be dragged along. But now the younger dwarf’s voice was thick and pleading when he admitted: „I stepped on it yesterday. We ran around with boots, we knew that we were not allowed, but we did it anyway. Now the box is ruined. And Bilbo is so sad. He didn‘t come out of his room all evening and he was crying. Please, Master Chubb-Baggins, please, can you repair this for him? We will give you all the money we have earned so far. Just please make it whole again!“

Emphatically Fíli nodded his agreement, even when his own wages were pledged together with Kíli’s.

Seeing the distress of the young dwarrows - and having a very good clue how his cousin felt at the moment - Falco stepped up to them, to inspect the damage, before shaking his head slightly. The faces of both boys fell and they looked close to tears, but the hobbit just put his hands on their shoulders and offered: „I cannot mend this for you, but I can help you do it yourself.“

Instantly he was enveloped by four - well three - strong arms that seemed to crush him. Smiling, he allowed them this moment of relief, before guiding them into the workshop. They put out the glory box in all its broken detail, and Falco tapped his mouth thoughtfully. Finally he admitted: „Well, we can fix the cover with a little work, and the front will be quite easy. This is an excellent craftsmanship and we will be able to work with it quite well. But the lock is broken and I have nothing even remotely similar to replace it.“

A tall figure blocked the sunlight for a moment, and Thorin entered the workshop, inspecting the lock before looking at his nephews, and offered: „I think I can help with that.“

Encouraged by the smith‘s support, Falco instantly went to work and told both Thorin and the boys what needed to be done to make Belladonna‘s box nearly as good as new.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

It had been closer to elevenses than second breakfast when Bilbo finally emerged from his room. The shards from the broken chest were gone and a part of him was grateful for that. He feared another breakdown if he was forced to look upon the destroyed box again.

Bilbo was horribly embarrassed by his own behaviour and he was really relieved that his dwarrows were not at home at the moment. That gave him time to make himself a pot of camomile tea and calm down with a pipe in his back garden where no one would see him.

The hobbit didn‘t know a lot about the dwarrows of the former kingdom of Erebor, but even he had heard about the dragon that had invaded their home. He felt ridiculous, crying over a simple wooden chest in the presence of three people who had lost their homes and so many friends to such a dreadful beast.

He took the day minute by minute. Fixing himself a small lunch, relieved to know that a few hobbits would stop by at the blacksmith‘s shop at noon taking care of Thorin’s lunch, so that he didn‘t need to care for his guest himself. He had secretly enjoyed the calm lunches they had had together, but he hadn‘t wanted to keep Thorin from meeting the other inhabitants of Hobbiton, when one by one they had approached him and had brought lunch and tea with biscuits in the afternoon.

In the early evening, when he finally entered his house again, deciding on what to make for dinner, he heard the front door opening and closing again. Three pairs of heavy boots entered his hole, but the next moment he heard the boots thud on the floor, and a patter of bare feet continued towards his living room. Smiling a little sadly to himself, Bilbo pulled himself together and forced a smile on his face, to welcome his house guests appropriately.

When he saw them for the first time today, he could see deep frowns and worry-lines on their faces, but also a glimmer of hope he really couldn‘t place. Kíli was the first one to step up to him and guided him towards his comfortable chair in the living room. Kneeling in front of him the dwarf swallowed heavily and started exactly like yesterday: „Bilbo, I am so sorry for everything that has happened. We should have obeyed when you told us to take off our shoes and not to brawl inside your home. You were right yesterday, I didn‘t break your mother‘s glory box on purpose, but it was my fault nevertheless and you were so sad because of it. So we wanted to make amends.“

Smiling at Kíli tenderly, brushing his cheek gently at that admission, Bilbo started: „Kíli that‘s really not necessary. It is …“

But Fíli stepped up to his younger brother and placed a package in Bilbo‘s lap, that was covered in one of his own blankets. Putting his hands on his brother’s shoulders, supportive and to show the hobbit that he was in total agreement with his brother’s words, he stopped Bilbo‘s speech, saying: „Yes, Bilbo, it is. We broke it so we are honour bound to make amends.“

The hobbit looked from Fíli to Kíli. Both dwarrows looked at him with hopeful eyes. At last his gaze drifted towards Thorin, who had entered the room, but kept his distance. Finally dragging away the soft cloth, Bilbo found his mother’s glory box in his lap, mended and nearly as good as new.

 

 

With big eyes he opened it again and found the discoloration between the new wood and the old one. He saw the new hinge in a much lighter colour, as well as the complicated lock that would keep everything inside of it safe from now on. With a gentle touch he brushed over the symbols of a bow and two crossed swords that had been engraved in two corners of the lid, smiling up at Thorin. „Artists engrave their works,“ before returning his attention back to the boys in front of him.

Putting the box to the side, he hugged first Kíli and then Fíli, gratefully saying his thank you for their efforts. He felt Kíli shaking slightly in his arms and the young dwarf seemed unwilling to let him go, when he stepped up to his brother. Allowing the two young Durins to cling onto him after his first hug, he let go of them after a few long minutes and looked at the older dwarf.

Thorin looked slightly confused at the hobbits approach, but still allowed the small creature to drag him into a fierce hug. When he heard the whispered „Thank you so much!“ right beside his ear, he couldn‘t help himself, but closed his arms around his host. It felt good, really good to have been able to chase away that pain.

When his people had lost their homes, Thorin had done everything in his power to make their fates easier, to ease their suffering and provide for them in any way he could. But nothing he had ever done had been able to make up for a lost home.

Here, in the Shire, in Bag End, a great loss had been experienced, but together they had been able to make amends for it. The shining eyes of their hobbit and his bone-crushing hug told him that. And he was grateful beyond belief for this very moment, where his whole world felt right because all of them were happy.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The picture in this chapter was included after a had luckily received permission to post them from Kaci.
> 
> You can find the original picture here: http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/40989112687 along with a lot other drawings from her skilled hand's.
> 
> * * *
> 
> The tremendously talented jacobbyofblufyshe was inspired by my work and had graciously allowed me to post it. You can find the original picture here: http://jacobbyofblufyshe.tumblr.com/post/54741551672/homestuck-in-a-rut-jacobbyofblufyshe-soooo


	9. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter full of new discoveries and the question of how to deal with them.

That evening, each inhabitant of Bag End went to bed content and joyful. But regrettably with the good memories also came back the bad ones.

 

Bilbo felt like he had just laid his head on the cushion, when he found himself surrounded by snow and ice on a vast, empty plain. He knew that the Brandywine River was close by and that the first houses of Hobbiton were not far away, but for now he felt like he was in the middle of nowhere.

He wheeled around when he felt someone tugging at his hand and nearly broke down to his knees when he recognized his mother. Her face was frantic and full of worry when she ordered him: “Move, Bilbo! They are close behind us!”

Only after Belladonna has said that, he started to hear wolves howling close by, and felt the presence of his father at his back, shoving him towards the village. They raced over the ice-covered plain, but somehow they seemed to be unable to reach the first houses that meant safety. The wolves, on the other hand, got closer and closer. Bilbo could hear their massive paws on the snow; feel their lingering breath in his neck until his father turned around, attacking the wolf closest to them with a long knife.

Bilbo wanted to shout out, to drag Bungo bag and along with them. But he knew that every try would be in vain. He knew he was dreaming, and that every attempt to change the inevitable would be useless. But that didn’t keep the events from slicing through his heart, leaving him bleeding and desperate.

His mother dragged him on and on, towards a hilltop, but when she heard her husband Bungo screamed in mortal pain, she stopped, urging Bilbo to go on. The hobbit ran a few steps, but suddenly found himself unable to go any further. Turning around reluctantly, he saw his mother with a sickle in her hand, stepping up to the wolf that had just killed her husband. With a war cry Bilbo had never thought his mother capable of, she slashed at the creatures chest, but the sharp teeth sunk into her shoulders, ripping open the skin so that her clothes were covered in blood almost instantly.

“BILBO, RUN!” were the last words the young hobbit had ever heard from his mother. Stumbling backwards he fell over the edge of the hill. When his fall finally came to a halt, he just remained lying in the cold snow, hot tears streaming down his cheeks over the loss of his family.

 

Bilbo sat up in his bed, panting heavily and shivering all over. He clutched his quilt with all his might before forcing himself to let go.  
He had not dreamed of that horrible night in Fell Winter for a long time. But now the memories of his parents had inevitably brought back the ones of their death.

Knowing that he would not be able to go back to sleep for at least an hour, he stood up and put on his soft, colourful dressing gown, leaving his room to use the facilities and splash some water into his face. On his way back to the master bedroom, he thought he heard a strange noise, while passing Fíli and Kíli’s room. Instantly worried about the boys, he opened the door just a fraction, to see if they were alright.

The second he peeked into the room, he closed the door again, leaning against it with flaming red cheeks.

Yes, the boys were close. Very close! This very moment even closer than he had ever seen them before, and quite honestly hoped that he ever would in the future. Only one bed that needed changing, small and subtle gestures between them when they thought he was not looking, their bad conscience written all over their faces when he stepped up to them unheard, breaking them apart from an embrace, now made so much more sense.

Bilbo shook his head and smiled when he finally stepped away from the door. They really, truly loved each other and the hobbit enjoyed that knowledge. They were like two sides of one coin, different and yet the same, and were absolutely perfect as a couple, balancing out each other in the most wonderful way. He just wondered why they had never told him.

Maybe dwarrows were more like men when it came to appropriate contact between first degree relatives than hobbits. In the Shire siblings were taken aside and informed about the dangers of inbreeding. But when everybody was careful – and the fact that Fíli and Kíli both were male spoke for that – there was no reason to intervene in a perfectly functioning relationship.

From his few trips to Bree, Bilbo knew that man were not so accepting of the relationships between their children. Perhaps it was the same with dwarrows. Thinking about possible ways to set his young dwarrows at ease, Bilbo made his way through his home, when he heard another noise from Thorin’s room. Was nobody sleeping tonight?

The hobbit was even more careful this time, because he so did not desire to catch Thorin in the act, if that was what he was doing. But listening at the door for a few moments, he could only hear incomprehensible words and noises of distress. Although he didn’t understand them, they clearly sounded as if their speaker was anxious or frightened.

Opening the door to the guestroom cautiously, Bilbo found Thorin shivering on the bed. The covers lay partially intertwined between his legs and the rest had been shoved half down to the floor. He could see beads of sweat shining on the dwarf’s forehead. Thorin did have a nightmare, and a real bad one it seemed.

Bilbo stepped up to the bed, his feet not making any noise on the hardwood floor, and touched Thorin's shoulder, shaking him lightly to rouse him from sleep. The reaction was instantaneous. The dwarven warrior shot up from his bed and his backhand caught Bilbo completely by surprise, throwing the hobbit several feet back.

Unintelligible barking words came from the dwarf’s mouth, when he looked around with frantic eyes. Never before in his life had Bilbo been backhanded. His parents had been firm believers in punishments that fitted the crimes, but never, ever had anybody slapped him. Brawls as a child did not count!

So Bilbo froze on the floor, not letting the dwarf out of his sight, while the latter slowly seemed to come to his senses.

 

When a soft hand dragged Thorin out of his nightmare, out from his fight before the Mines of Moria, fighting off the intruder was more of an instinctual reaction than a conscious choice. When he realized what had happened, looked at Bilbo who lay on the floor of his own guest-room, blood trickling from a gash in his lower lip, the horrors about his actions threatened to suffocate Thorin.

Stumbling from his bed, tripping over the quilt that seemed to bind his legs, he fell on the floor right next to his host. Bilbo had not moved an inch, hadn’t even let him out of his sight, but flinched back slightly, when Thorin tried to touch him.

Ashamed by the hobbit’s reaction, Thorin remained on his knees, but curled into himself, to avoid the halfling’s penetrating gaze. His fingers trailed though his own hair, pulling at it painfully in an attempt to punish himself, when he realized that he was utterly unable to do anything right by this hobbit.

The thain, who had given them this one chance, had expected him to be deferential, subservient and to prove that dwarrows were not a race of arrogant and brutal beings. And yet here he was. Taking everything that was offered but giving close to nothing in return. The bracelet had not cost him anything, because the metal had already been there. The little support the Durins gave in their host’s home, was not even worth mentioning, and now he had even attacked his host. There was really no chance to turn this around now. His people would starve to death this winter, just because he couldn’t keep himself under control.

Warm fingers intertwined with his own, a little while later, before untangling them from his hair. A small body shoved himself under his torso, strong arms enveloping his shoulders and fingers started to brush through his unruly hair in a comforting motion. Small noises were made just above his head, and it took Thorin a few moments to understand their meaning. The hobbit, the very hobbit he had just attacked, was trying to soothe him.

 

“Sssshhhh. Everything is alright. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Sssshhhh,” Bilbo didn’t even think about what he was saying. Just that the distress and the desperate tears that had leaked from Thorin’s eyes had proven that the dwarf was as much in shock about what has happened as the hobbit.

No one could hold one’s reactions against him. Especially not when woken up from a bad dream. So Bilbo tried his very best to calm Thorin down, and get something else out of him than the incomprehensible words he was muttering at the moment.

After a few minutes the shivering stopped and the nightmare seemed do fade away from his guest, so that the hobbit finally dared to let go. Slowly as if not to startle him, Thorin straightened his upper body, but kept looking at the floor, utterly ashamed. Gently brushing a part of the black strands away, Bilbo asked in a low voice: “I could use a stiff drink. What about you?”

When his question was answered with another string of words he could not understand, Bilbo smiled a little and shook his head: “I am sorry, but I don’t understand.” But before Thorin could open his mouth once again – the apologetic tone of his former words not been lost to Bilbo – the hobbit decided that now was not the time for apologies.

Upon rising, he offered his hand to help his tense guest to his feet, and reluctantly Thorin took it. It was not an easy task to haul a grown dwarf to his feet. But Bilbo managed with pure determination, and a grip on the door handle to steady himself.

The dwarf still refrained from meeting the hobbit’s eyes, when they left the guest room. Bilbo went to his liquor cabinet and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of strong liquor. Grabbing a blanket big enough for both of them, he opened the front door and gestured Thorin to the bench in the front garden, that looked over a good part of Hobbiton.

 

Silent and miserable, Thorin followed his host. He just couldn’t understand the tiny creature. Why was he so amendable after being attacked? Every dwarf he knew would have at least retaliated. But Bilbo just grabbed a bottle and a blanket before guiding them both out of his smial.

Thorin’s heart sank. Maybe this was just “good-bye” and in a minute Bilbo would tell him to shove it and return to his mountain.

When he was offered the first glass, he drowned the spirits instantly and coughed a little. Not because the liquor was not good, but because it was incredibly strong. Looking at Bilbo who grimaced as soon as the drink touched his split lip, Thorin felt the desire to hurt himself again, just because Bilbo was obviously not planning to punish him for his actions.

But he remembered the hobbit dragging his fingers away from his hair before, so he refrained from pulling at his strands once again, to at least begin to make amends for his attack. The hobbit however seemed to sense his distress, because he forced a smile on his lips and assured him: “It’s nothing. I have been hurt worse before. Once I climbed the big Party Tree and fell down. I hit my head so hard I vomited for two days. Compared to that, this is nothing.”

He was comforting him. This was so WRONG. Thorin should be the one to comfort Bilbo, but he had never been in a situation like this before. So he was completely at loss of what to do. Finally he dared to reach over to the hobbit warily, and gently brushed away the blood that threatened to soil Bilbo’s clothes while whispering: “Why aren’t you angry?”

Bilbo just gave a good-natured shrug, holding completely still as the dwarf touched him, before asking: “Did you do it on purpose?”

Thorin’s look of horror was almost comical when he defended himself: “I would never, EVER do that to you! I swear it. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Nodding at the remark, Bilbo replied: “See, so why should I be angry about an accident? I was not angry about the glory-box – well I was a little angry, but just because I had kept it in harm’s way – and I am not angry with you now. It was not your fault that I startled you.”

Thorin shivered slightly. Reaching for the blanket, he hesitated for a moment, before wrapping it both around the hobbit and himself. It was large enough for that; obviously that’s why Bilbo had chosen it in the first place. Thorin was not that cold, but the kindness of this hobbit humbled him to the core and the blanket would at least partially shield him, even if there was no one around he could protect himself from, with a soft quilt.

He had been trained to be the future king. Yet this small creature seemed to care so very much, that he didn’t even take attacks against himself or his belongings personally. Once more Thorin felt regretful because of his inability to make his father see reason these few winters ago. The knowledge that more than one person like Bilbo Baggins had lost their lives because of his father’s reluctance to help, sat very ill with him.

He thought about something to say, when he suddenly heard Bilbo’s voice again: “What was your nightmare about?”

Startled for a moment, he didn’t answer straight away. The hobbit immediately picked up his reluctance and said: “Of course you don’t have to talk about it. I just thought it might help you. You know, so that you can get it off your chest, before returning to bed.” He poured them another round of shots.

Thorin hesitated for a minute, looking up at the clear sky that shone with so many stars. He had never seen so many lights in the sky in Erebor or the Blue Mountains. It was like everything in the Shire was purer than anywhere else. Allowing him to look at the things like they were, and not like he usually saw them, through the narrow windows out of his home in the mountains. Finally he admitted: “I dreamed about Moria.”

“What happened in Moria?” Bilbo’s voice was questioning but not intrusive. Like he wanted to give Thorin the choice of either answering or keeping the story to himself.

In the end it was the unassuming demeanour of the hobbit that made the dwarf talk: “There was a great battle there. I lost my grandfather there, as well as my brother-in-law. My father was… I guess you could say he was not himself for a while, so I had to take care of everything.”

“I imagine it must have been hard to care for your father and your sister and her sons alike. Fíli and Kíli are just lovely boys but they can be quite a handful. Although, I don’t even want to think about the time when you three are leaving,” Bilbo stated with a compassionate smile.

Thorin felt like he had been slapped by such an open declaration of sympathy, but carefully schooled his expression to remain neutral. What kind of person was he, to court this hobbit solely for his own purpose, without any regard of Bilbo’s feelings? Feelings that showed so much sympathy for his family, even without being bound to them in marriage.

The hobbit poured them glass after glass and the dwarf took the opportunity to down another one, before facing reality.

So that was what this was all about. Bilbo adored his two nephews and wanted to keep them around. Well, at least a part of their plans had been working out.

Thorin didn’t know why the idea disturbed him so much. The hobbit was a kind male. He had seen the brothers and experienced their closeness. Surely, when he finally chose one of the brothers, he would not cut the other loose? Closing his eyes, he forced himself to breathe deeply, trying to fight down disappointment and sadness. There was no reason for him to feel this way. He should be happy, but instead he felt terribly crestfallen.

Feeling Bilbo’s head sink against his shoulder, he opened his eyes again. Glass in one hand, bottle in the other, his host had fallen asleep during Thorin’s time of soul-searching.

Cautiously, so that he would not startle the small creature, Thorin wrapped his arm around the hobbit’s shoulders and wrapped the blanket tighter around both of them. Putting his face into the golden locks Thorin inhaled deeply, smelling the reminiscence of their dinner, the baked bread and some lavender from the soap he knew Bilbo to use. But there was more, like freshly cut grass and rich soil that entwined with the more prominent fragrances of his hobbit.

The halfling truly smelled like a creature of the earth, connected to each and every living thing around him. The dwarven prince couldn’t help himself; he had to drag Bilbo closer once again, to feel more of this amazing creature that slept against his body peacefully and full of trust that Thorin would protect him from all harm. In that night, Thorin desperately wished that he would be able to.

But protecting Bilbo from the harshness of the world would mean leaving him. Forsake their mission, and leave this hobbit for his serene and content life, returning to the Blue Mountains to find another way to help his people. But there was no other way, and Thorin felt like a wretch for trying to abuse this halfling for his own means. Showing him something that was not really there, persuading him with a personality he had invented for his stay in the Shire. But in the end these thoughts were useless because Thorin really didn’t have a choice. His first duty was to his people. With a sad smile he picked the halfling up and carried him back to bed.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When Fíli and Kíli awoke the next morning they instantly were upon Bilbo when seeing his split lip. But the hobbit just shrugged them off, ordering them not to make a fuss and to eat their breakfast. When they insisted on hearing what had happened to him, he told them about a nightmare, and that he had split his lip in his clumsiness, when wandering through his home in the dark, in an attempt to calm down.

Looking at each other in utter bewilderment, before looking upon their uncle to hear his opinion on the silly story – because first of all Bilbo was never clumsy, he was the most dexterous creature they had ever encountered, and secondly, him getting hurt in his own dwelling was very unlikely – they realized that the older dwarf was unable to meet their eyes. Kíli wanted to call Bilbo on his obvious lie, but guessing his brother’s thoughts, Fíli kicked him under the table. Wordlessly they ate their breakfast, before leaving for work.

 

“Why didn’t you tell them the truth?” Thorin’s voice was barely audible over the cheerful chatter of the songbirds outside of the kitchen, after his nephews had left.

Bilbo just smiled again and shook his head. “And what good would that have done? I told you yesterday and I will tell you now: It was an accident, you said so yourself. So stop beating yourself up about it.” Piling up the used plates, to get them to the kitchen, Bilbo added as an afterthought: “Oh by the way, thank you for returning me to my bed. I must have fallen asleep on the spot; I’m usually not a night owl.”

‘Except when you have nightmares of your own’, Thorin thought, but refrained from saying it out loud. He had not known that the hobbit had had a nightmare, just like him the previous night. But the story had come too fast to be a complete lie. That might have been the reason why he had heard Thorin at all. Picking up a plate to carry it to the kitchen, the dwarf stated: “It was the least I could do. You are doing so much for us and we repay you by destroying your furniture and harming you.”

Laughing out loud Bilbo took the plate form Thorin while shaking his head in utter disbelief: “How can you say that? You are delightful house guests. You made me that bracelet on your very first day at the forge. You helped me with my plumbing. You repaired the glory-box I thought forever broken. You tidy, you clean, you do the washing up and the laundry. Truly a good host would not allow you any of this, for it is his duty to care for his guests. But I gave in after the very first day, discovering that a few stubborn dwarrows will always do what they think proper, no matter how we see it in the Shire. You behave more like family than guests, and family protect each other, even from one another when one of them makes a mistake.”

With a good-natured wink Bilbo pushed Thorin out of the kitchen and ordered him in a stern voice: “And now go to work. If Lobelia won’t get the knives she ordered, she will be very unhappy, because she had already told everybody that she would have cutlery of dwarven making. Then she will come here and make you unhappy and that will make me unhappy. So you see it’s time to go. For the good of all of us.”

Although Thorin still had to forgive himself for the attack on his host, Bilbo’s words went a long way to lift his spirits. So he just bowed deeply and left with a: “As you wish, Master Baggins. I shall only return when Mistress Lobelia Sackville-Baggins has the very best knives in the entire Shire.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	10. Dwarrows don’t get sick!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we will learn, that Thorin was a little optimistic in regards of the dwarfish nature. There is no doubt whatsoever that dwarrows are very strong, very apt and very resilient creatures. But dip them into river several times, even they might get sick. It's Kíli this time who proves his uncle wrong, and Bilbo who shows that hobbits are really good at caring, no matter the circumstances.

Bilbo thought long and hard on how to approach Fíli and Kíli after discovering the true nature of their relationship. Also on how to make their lives in his hobbit-hole more cosy. He didn’t feel very comfortable with discussing their personal lives with them. No matter how much he liked them, he was no relative after all. Talking to Thorin didn’t seem like a possibility either, because talking about his nephews’ sex life would be terribly embarrassing for the both of them.

In the end the decision was taken from him by a rather unfortunate incident. Bilbo knew that Falco occasionally dipped his wood into the river, before working in some embellishments. The hobbit had yet to find out why, but he knew of this practice, since he had seen his cousin do it time and time again, when his father was still alive. They had enjoyed their days at the stream together, before returning to the woodworker’s workshop. So it was highly probable that Fíli or Kíli would be doing this too.

So when Kíli came back one night with wet hair and damp clothes, full of stories about having fallen into the river while working on some wooden planks, Bilbo didn’t think too much about it. Not even when his brother teased the younger dwarf about enjoying his bath for nearly an hour before climbing out. They all had an enjoyable evening and the boys excused themselves rather early, with Kíli telling that he felt tired and wanted to go to bed. Now that Bilbo knew about their bed-sports, he only smiled and bade them a good night.

 

The truth was, he enjoyed his evenings alone with Thorin. They would just sit side by side, Bilbo with a book in his lap, Thorin sometimes tinkering with a piece of metal, engraving rich patterns into it, before putting it aside again. Sometimes, when Bilbo was lucky, the older dwarf would start to hum and even to sing while working. The hobbit never dared to mention that, because he was afraid that Thorin was doing it subconsciously and he didn’t want the dwarf to stop. He sang about far away mountains with such heartbreaking longing that it took Bilbo’s breath away. He sang about dungeons and caverns that lay in their depths. He sang about gold and wind blowing through pine trees, about blazing fires that had illuminated nights so long ago.

Although the hobbit didn’t know why, the song always made him sad. But at the same time he couldn’t keep himself from wishing that Thorin would sing it again and again and again, because when the dwarf allowed this melody to fill the homey rooms of Bag End, Bilbo saw something in his eyes, something that usually lay carefully hidden, and he longed for it every time he saw it, although he didn’t understand why.

Some nights Thorin would politely beg him to read something from his books. Bilbo soon found out that Thorin enjoyed stories of old, about conquering heroes and kingdoms saved, and after a while he sorted through his library and placed each and every book that might interest his dwarf in the front shelves.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The very next morning, when Bilbo was just preparing the second breakfast, he heard Fíli and Kíli approach him from behind. Usually they both tried to nick something out of the frying pan, or steal a piece of bread. But today they just sat down at the table, without a word. When Bilbo turned around to bid them a very good morning, he realized that Fíli had his arms tightly wrapped around his brother, and that Kíli looked really dreadful.

Placing the pan swiftly on the table, Bilbo stepped up to the young dwarf and brushed his lips over his forehead. Although Bilbo liked the young dwarf a great deal, this tender gesture was not meant as a sign of affection, but to find out if the boy’s temperature was higher than normal. Although Bilbo had no real reference in that matter, he instantly felt that Kíli was burning up. Checking his brother’s temperature for comparison, he instantly got a hold on the young dwarf and tried ot extracted him from Fíli’s arms as gently as he could so not to startle the patient.

Fíli however didn’t seem to take it as a harmless motion. Instantly the young dwarf closed his arms around his brother, dragging him closer and asked suspicious: “What are you doing?”

Not willing to explain himself extensively when Kíli was obviously sick, Bilbo’s rather stern voice made him retreat: “Kíli has a fever. There is nothing you can do about it. So sit back down, eat your breakfast and then go to work and tell my cousin that your brother will not return for the rest of the week.”

Though Fíli obeyed, mainly because he really didn’t feel like he had a choice in that matter, his eyes followed the hobbit suspiciously. For now the brothers had felt Bilbo’s sympathy had been equally divided between the two of them. Now, when Bilbo insisted of keeping Kíli home, Fíli wasn’t so sure any more. A little fever surely wasn’t that bad.

Thorin, who was a little late, instantly took in the scene in front of him, as he stepped into the dining room. Feeling his nephew’s temperature he just turned to Fíli and ordered: “Do as Bilbo says. I will take care of your brother.”

But Bilbo shook his head vehemently. “No! You told me yesterday that you are expecting a big delivery of metal from Bree today. No one else can take this for you. So you will go to work as well. I will take care of Kíli.”

Thorin had a protest on the tip of his tongue. This was family after all and he would not allow a tiny hobbit to order him around when his kin was sick. But then he realized that this was not about ordering someone around. He knew how to sit on the bedside, when they had been young dwarflings, to read to them when they were sick.

But on their very first night, Bilbo had shown knowledge of herbology. He was caring and kind. And most of all, he was right about the metal shipment. So Thorin lowered his head and just nodded before stating: “I will be back as soon as I can,” before kissing his nephew on the forehead, grabbing a piece of the delicious breakfast and heading out.

Fíli was a little more reluctant to leave. After returning Kíli to their room, the hobbit still found the older brother starring at a full plate of food in front of him, unable to stomach a single bite. Bilbo couldn’t help himself when he saw Fíli’s scared eyes looking up to him: he dragged the young dwarf into a fierce hug. Rubbing soothing circles over Fíli’s back, he whispered: “I will take good care of your brother. I promise you. But Falco needs you. Amanda needs you and the fauntlings as well. Please trust me to make Kíli better and help my family.”

After a moment’s hesitation Fíli nodded and let go of the hobbit. Touching their foreheads together, like he did with Thorin and Kíli, he placed a few items from the breakfast in a napkin before leaving as well.

 

Brushing his hair out of his face, Bilbo composed a small, easily digestible breakfast plate for Kíli, and returned to the young ones’ room with a tablet that held both of their breakfasts, as well as a cup of tea.

Kíli didn’t look any better when he entered. Bilbo helped him remove his many layers of clothing but when he finally tried to stir the young fellow towards the fresh bed, Kíli started to struggle in earnest. Clutching to Bilbo’s arms, he pleaded desperately: “Please don’t separate me from my brother. We could never bear it. Please, Bilbo, we will be yours to command forever, just let us be together. We will be good; so very good, I swear.”

Shaking his head about the incoherent words the boy spoke in his fever, the hobbit finally gave in and guided Kíli towards the already used bed. He covered him in blankets, the furs, and draped a nice quilt on top of everything, so that the patient would be warm and comfortable.

When he tried to get up from his place on the bed – reaching for the breakfast – Kíli’s shaking hand enveloped his wrist once again, with unexpected strength. His words were stressed when he whispered: “Please, Bilbo! You have to understand. I love him. And he loves me! We love each other, really, really. So very much! I couldn’t live without him. Please, don’t take him from me!”

Bilbo’s heart nearly broke when he saw the tears leaking out of Kíli’s eyes, and he couldn’t keep himself from embracing the dwarf. Gently he patted his back, soothingly trailing fingers through the unruly hair. The young one shivered profoundly, continuing his feverish speech in the language Thorin had used a few days ago, when waking from his nightmare.

Calming the boy, Bilbo promised him: “I would never, ever take your brother away from you Kíli.” Separating them, he waited for Kili to look at him, and held his gaze firmly, saying: „I just sent him off to work because you are sick. You have to get better, so that you can go with him again. Alright? I know you love him and its fine with me. I will not take him from you, Kíli. Not now, not ever. Do you believe me?”

Looking into the glassy eyes of his patient, Bilbo waited for a small acknowledgement that his words had been registered, before letting the lad go, bringing breakfast around. He helped Kíli to drink some tea and encouraged him to take a few bites. But after only half the plate was empty, Kíli just leaned back and sank into a deep but restless sleep. Finishing his own breakfast, Bilbo did the washing up in the kitchen, fetched a book from his library, before returning to the guest room.

He made himself at home in the chair in front of the fire, and started to watch over his patient. Whenever Kíli awoke Bilbo forced some tea into him, and after the pot of herbal tea was empty, the hobbit started to prepare his famous ginger, lemon and honey mixture. It occurred to him to look for some Echinacea flower in his garden; sadly, they were not in full bloom yet, so he would have to find a way to either get dried flowers or hope that his neighbour Hamfast Gamgee has had more luck with nursing them.

 

The hope was more promising than you would think, because the Gamgee family really had the green thumb. No matter what herb, flower or fruit they planted in their garden, it would sprout and bloom almost overnight. Bilbo and Hamfast had had many enjoyable days in the sun, where the old man had taught Bilbo a lot about tending plants and about their uses for cooking or healing.

 

Being a member of the infamous Took family – at least partially – Bilbo had brought a lot of illnesses upon himself, due to careless behaviour outdoors or injuries through reckless adventures. His mother had started to teach him at a very young age how to take care of bruises and wounds, and he even knew how to stitch up a slash, because it happened on occasion, when one was working with sharp tools in the garden.

So Bilbo was confident that he was able to care for a sick dwarf, thank you very much! He was aware that Thorin was worried on principle, because he was the boy’s uncle, and that Fíli had to worry about his brother because that’s what a siblings were supposed to do. But Bilbo didn’t worry at all. He had a patient and a very good plan of what to do with him. So he took the kettle from the stove as soon as the water was boiling, prepared a big pot of tea he heavily laced with honey – the young one needed every bit of energy to fight off his sickness – and returned to his patient’s room.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The day dragged on uneventfully. Kíli willingly drank the tea that Bilbo offered, smiling and commenting every time that it was heavenly sweet and that he liked it that way, before falling asleep again. Now and then he would become uneasy, rolling around in his bed, muttering words in that strange language of the dwarrows.

Even taking the young one’s hand, bathing his forehead with cold cloth, Bilbo was not able to calm the boy down. Finally, when he heard Fíli’s name from his patient’s mouth again and again and again, he started to look for something the older brother had worn. Returning with a shirt the boy had used yesterday, he folded it together and placed it into Kíli’s arms. Instantly the young one calmed when he smelled something from his brother and dozed off peacefully for a few hours.

Bilbo started to worry when Kíli’s temperature rose in the afternoon. That in itself was not astounding, but his patient became delirious and started to cry out and shout in his dreams. Bilbo tried his very best to calm him down, but when one of his neighbours knocked at the window, to find out what all the shouting was about, the hobbit decided to send her off to his cousin Falco to get Fíli back home.

Not thirty minutes later, a hard breathing Fíli bolted though the door. He was covered in sawdust and sweat. Shaking all over, he watched his desperate brother and the hobbit that was trying to hold him down, so that he would not fall out of the bed. Kíli was agitated now, shouted and cried out and Bilbo looked at Fíli desperately. “I don’t know what he is saying, I can’t understand. But we need to cool him down. His fever is much too high! Can you hold him for me so that I can prepare something to lower his temperature?”

As if he had only waited for this request, Fíli was at the bed in an instant, wrapping his arms around his brother. Completely neglecting the fact that he was more than dirty, he climbed in and dragged Kíli into his arms, whispering words in that unknown language that seemed to calm the young dwarf down a great deal. Looking up at Bilbo, Fíli asked in confusion: “He said you promised not to separate us.”

Bilbo nodded, explaining: “He told me that you both would be good, if I just didn’t take one from the other.” Smiling slightly, the hobbit added, when remembering that his admission wouldn’t make any sense to Fíli: “He was frantic, so what was I supposed to do? Of course I promised, I would have said anything to calm him down.”

 

Leaving the room, Bilbo didn’t see the tremendous pain that distorted Fíli’s features at that confession. Of course Bilbo had just made that promise to calm Kíli down. It didn’t mean anything. The deal was still on and they would have to do their very best, to make their hobbit choose one of them, so that the Shire-folk would help their kingdom.

Fíli hugged his brother so hard that he forced little noises of distress out of him. Instantly he let go and just rubbed his arms and returned to assure Kíli of Bilbo’s promise, although he really couldn’t believe it himself any more.

 

In the kitchen Bilbo went for his stack of corn germ oil and poured a generous amount of it into a bow. Crushing peppermint-leaves in his mortar, he spooned them into the oil and blended the mixture together.

If Kíli was delirious, they seriously needed to get down his temperature. Bilbo’s mother Belladonna had once told him that ice-cold water would help a patient who would burn up a great deal. Having a good stack of ice in his cellar, Bilbo carried the oil concoction, as well as a bottle of vodka into the dining room. They needed to get Kíli into the cellar and rub down his burning body.

Returning to the guestroom, he found the brothers in a heavy embrace, muttering to each other. When Fíli looked at him with frightened eyes, Bilbo gently brushed over his head in a calming motion, telling the dwarf: “We will bring him into the cellar now. Can you change? I can’t lift him alone.”

Instantly Fíli rose and started to pile up his work-clothes in a corner. After choosing a new shirt and clean trousers, he pulled Kíli into his arms, carrying him towards the cellar. After picking up his paraphernalia in the dining room, Bilbo guided the brothers into the cellar.

Fíli still held onto his brother, who was wrapped into a big quilt and Bilbo gently guided them to the big table that dominated the room. Surrounding the table hung his stocks of meat, and fish, everything that would go bad easily in warm temperature. In every corner sat a huge basin that was filled with ice. Usually they collected that in the winter and it kept his cellar cool over the summer.

Taking a good part of ice out of one pan, Bilbo put it into a large bowl that sat on a sideboard, drowned it with vodka and crushed everything together. Filling the mixture into a few clothes he folded together he gave one to Fíli and took one for himself. Swiftly and efficiently they brushed down Kíli’s sweating body, and after a few minutes the frantic mumbling did really stop. Encouraged by the immediate reaction, Bilbo ordered Fíli to brush his brother down a second time and then cover him with the peppermint oil, before bringing him up again.

Running back the guestroom, the hobbit rid the bed of its covers with swift motions. Covering the mattress with fresh linen, he relocated the unused bedding and cushion from the other bed. Kíli was shivering when Fíli entered with him only moments later, and Bilbo motioned him to place his brother in the fresh bed, covering the sick dwarf in a new quilt.

 

Originally Bilbo had not wanted the two brothers to interact, because he was afraid that Fíli would pick up the infection from Kíli. But now he saw that the brothers were under a lot more strain when he kept them from each other. It was a simple fever, caused by an extensive bath in the river. Kíli was not carrying the seed of a terminal illness, so Bilbo encouraged Fíli: “Go and wash yourself, but keep the cold water in the tub, we might need it again. Afterwards you can rest with your brother. You both will be calmer that way and I can prepare a meal.”

The tremendous gratitude the hobbit could see in the dwarf’s eyes made him lower his head. Honestly, he was just doing what he thought best for his patient. There was no need to look at him as if he was some kind of saviour of Middle Earth.

 

 - ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin returned a little while later, finding the hobbit in the front garden, digging up some carrots. “How is Kíli?” was the first thing he said, even in advance of a proper greeting. But Bilbo couldn’t care less at the moment. All of the Durins cared for each other deeply, so it was only understandable that their first concern would be their sick family-member.

“Sleeping calmly, now that Fíli is with him,” Bilbo said comfortingly.

Returning to the kitchen, swiftly followed by the dwarf who had only taken his time at the door to take off his shoes but was still in his cape, he continued: “We rubbed him down with ice-water a little while ago. His fever has been much too high for my comfort. Now I will prepare a nice chicken soup with vegetables he hopefully will be able to stomach. You can go and have a look if you want.”

 

Instantly Thorin turned around and left the kitchen. Upon entering his nephews’ room he found both of them intertwined on the bed. The only difference to their usual sleeping arrangement was, that Kíli was covered with blankets heavily and Fíli lay on top of the covers, arms around his younger brother. He didn’t even notice Thorin; he was so concentrated at his sibling, that he was startled when his uncle gently put a hand on his shoulder. The old man asked in a cautious voice: “Do you think it wise to sleep with your brother?”

Scandalised Fíli shot up immediately at that outrageous allegation, but put out his chin defiantly: “Bilbo encouraged me. He said that Kíli would be calmer that way. So I didn’t protest,” Of course both Durin’s knew, that Fíli would never sleep with his brother in such a weak state and that he had only held onto him for comfort.

Thorin blanched a little and sat down on the bed, looking at his nephews. Worrying he asked: “Do you think he knows?”

Fíli instantly shook his head and explained: “Kíli was talking in his fever, about not wanting us to be separated, not to be taken from each other. Bilbo had said that he had promised him such, but only because Kíli is ill and it had calmed him down.” Closing his eyes, to hide his pain from his uncle, gently kissing his brothers hair, he continued: “I think that Bilbo cares a great deal about us and I don’t think him cruel. He wouldn’t dismiss such a promise so easily, if he knew what it meant for us.”

It took some time, but by now Thorin could only nod. No matter what cruel circumstances had brought them here and were forced upon them, Bilbo had had no part in them. Maybe that was the reason Gerontius Took didn’t want them to talk to Bilbo Baggins about their arrangement? It made it harder for them, so much harder, to achieve their goal, but at the same time it made their lives here so much more pleasant, because while the conditions hadn’t changed, it was not upon their host to force them. They did his bidding because they wanted to, not because they had to with him.

When he finally left a room some time later, Bilbo stepped up to him, closing the buttons of his waistcoat. “I will go down to the market. I could do with some Echinacea flower, and need a few other things as well. Are you comfortable here? Do you need anything?”

Looking at the caring male in front of him, Thorin could only shake his head. What could he say? What could he possibly need, when Bilbo took care of his sick nephew for him, so that he could fulfil his obligations to the hobbits of the Shire. There would be no way to ever repay this hobbit’s kindness.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The fever dragged itself out for three more days. Bilbo never left Kíli’s side for more than an hour to run some errands or prepare food. He cared for his patient with herbal tea and poultices wrapped around his chest and ankles to lower the fever. And while he encouraged Fíli to lie down beside his brother for a few hours each afternoon to calm him down, he always sent him away in the evening, to at least spend the night in peace.

 

Little did Bilbo know that Fíli didn’t spend the night alone after all. The young dwarf was far too worried to be able to be on his own. During the first night, Thorin had found him in front of the fireplace in the living room around midnight. The older dwarf had dragged him into his room, where he had been able to calm his nephew enough to fall asleep.

 

Early Sunday morning – the sun was yet to rise – Thorin felt a slight nudge on his shoulder and found a pale, but smiling Kíli on his bedside. Gesturing for his uncle to follow him, he brought the older man to his room. There, on the same chair he had been sitting on the last few days, Bilbo lay, curled into a blanket, with a book on his lap. Kíli whispered into his uncle’s ear: “I am not strong enough to carry him. I think a few hours in his own bed would do him loads of good.”

Smiling and nodding to his nephew, he allowed Kíli to take the book from Bilbo’s lap, before lifting the small hobbit up and carrying him into the master bedroom. Covering him with bedding and quilt, the Durins retreated to allow their host a few hours of undisturbed sleep. Kíli yawned a little and looked at his uncle with sleepy eyes. So the dwarf just pushed the boy into his own bed, crawling in behind him, so that the lad was enveloped between his uncle on one side, and his brother on the other. Easier than he had done over the last few days, he fell asleep again, to the steady breaths of the most important people in his entire world.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When Bilbo awoke, he looked around with tired eyes, completely confused by his surroundings. He should have been at Kíli’s bedside. Instantly the hobbit shot to his feet and dashed towards the guest room where the sick dwarf was supposed to sleep.

But he found not only one, but both guest rooms empty. Following faint noises, he located his guests in his kitchen where Kíli – wrapped up in one of his quilts – sat on the windowsill with a steaming cup of tea in his hand, pale but clearly better; and Thorin and Fíli in front of his oven, preparing second breakfast, or elevenses, Bilbo was not sure which at the moment.

As soon as his arrival was noticed, Thorin approached him and guided him towards his usual chair, placing a hot cup of tea in front of him.

Sipping the herbal mixture, Bilbo asked in bewilderment: “What … what are you doing?”

Fíli turned around with a smile on his face. “Well, Mister Boggins. What do you think we are doing? We are preparing elevenses! Or don’t you think that after nearly a month in your company, we would not be able to prepare a proper meal?”

When Bilbo started to protest about how terribly improper that was, Thorin just shut him up with a hand on his shoulder. The older dwarf crouched down beside him and looked at him with a serious face, saying: “You have cared for Kíli better than anyone of us could have. So please allow us to prepare at least one meal for you.”

Hiding his blush behind his teacup, Bilbo could only nod, eyes fixed on the liquid in front of him. Food was very important for hobbits, and preparing food for someone who was neither guest nor family, was a very important step in a relationship. Bilbo liked to think of his houseguests as a kind of extended family. He dared not hope that they shared the sentiment. They couldn’t, simply because they were no hobbits, and didn’t know about their customs. But it felt good, to have something provide for him in his own home. A little like these dwarrows were his family and were ready to care for him. So he didn’t protest any further and simply started to run his fingers through Kíli’s hair, when the young dwarf sat down on the bench beside him and put his head on the hobbit’s shoulder.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	11. Courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter describes a little about courting rituals in the dwarrows and hobbits culture.  
> And all the misunderstanding and heartbreak, the ignorance of these rituals can cause.

The day went on in the same way as the morning had begun: lazy and comfortable. All four of them – not having to be anywhere, not having to do anything, but to get something to eat, to smoke or to entertain themselves when the need arose – simply enjoyed Bilbo’s back garden in full bloom.

They sat on the bench or lay in the grass – the boys actually enjoyed rolling around in the fresh meadow – smoked some pipe-weed and when Thorin asked Bilbo to read from one of his books, the hobbit complied willingly. After an hour of reading, he announced that he would prepare a light lunch, only to be surprised by Thorin, who came outside with a tablet full of bread, cheese, ham, tomatoes and even a pot of tea.

Bilbo mused that he should tell the dwarf sometime soon that feeding each other was an acknowledged custom in the hobbits’ courting rituals. But considering that it would be unlikely for Thorin to prepare food for anybody – or else Bilbo would have heard about it by now – he let this one slide, so as not to make his guest uncomfortable.

Kíli, still pale and uneasy on his feet, accepted a cup of tea and a thick slice of oven-warm bread with a knob of creamy-golden butter, and afterwards even tried to nibble on a few slices of apple Bilbo was cutting for him.

Little did the hobbit know that feeding someone from one’s own plate was viewed as courting by the dwarrows. But just like he refrained from enlightening Thorin on hobbit customs, the dwarrows felt reluctant to point this out themselves. They still hoped or feared that Bilbo’s heightened interest in Kíli was partly worry for the youngest inhabitant’s well-being, partly a mere coincidence.

 

When the sun finally set, Bilbo encouraged Kíli to take another bath, and couldn’t help but snicker at the face the young dwarf made when he remembered the ice-cold torture down in the cellar he’d had to endure during his sickness. But when Bilbo promised him a steaming bath with lavender and almond oil, the boy was only too ready to comply.

Returning to the guest-room the brothers inhabited, Bilbo hummed under his voice when he stripped both beds of their sheets and refreshed the covers for the blankets and cushions, before piling the furs and quilts on the respective beds. When everything was fresh and ready to be used, no matter which bed the brothers would prefer, he returned to his kitchen and whipped up a potato casserole for dinner.

The day had been so mixed up that it was quite hopeless to try to keep the meals at their appropriate times. He just reckoned his three dwarrows would be hungry in about an hour or so. Therefore he wanted to be prepared. After the last draining days he really didn’t feel like cooking anything complicated, hence the stew.

Returning to his living room where the other two Durins had already taken their favourite places, he sank into his chair and readied another pipe. Smiling at Thorin who was tinkering with new band of metal and at Fíli who lay splayed out on his front, leafing through the book Bilbo had read to them in the afternoon, he sighed contently. Yes he would miss these dwarrows once they returned to their Mountain. But maybe he could visit them.

 

Smiling at the thought, he knew that his mother would encourage him. She had always done so when he had spoken to her about an adventure. But after his parents’ death, all need for excitement had left him. He had retreated to being a respectable hobbit, honouring the name of “Baggins”. But maybe, if there WAS something to explore, it was worth the risk after all. He looked at his new friends: they definitely made him think about leaving the Shire and going on an exciting journey to the Blue Mountains.

Kíli looked absolutely adorable when he returned to the living room a little while later. He was only clad in a fresh shirt and soft trousers, padding through Bag End barefoot. His hair was a tangled mess and all of his braids were undone. Well, they had not been in a very good condition after his sickness anyway. But now that he felt better it was a little strange for Bilbo to see the dark-haired boy without his usual hair decoration.

Smiling softly at Kíli, he offered: “Come here. I will brush your hair and redo your braids, so that you can be a respectable dwarf once again.”

Being so concentrated on Kíli, he didn’t realize that Fíli flinched as if the hobbit had just kicked him on the floor.

Kíli on the other hand just padded over to Bilbo, sank onto the floor in front of him, tried to position himself between the hobbit’s legs so that his head was within Bilbo’s reach, and dozed off almost instantly, leaning against the hobbit’s legs. Bilbo just smiled and asked Thorin to get him his comb from the bathroom.

 

Thorin carefully schooled his features at that request. So Bilbo had made his choice. Doing a dwarrows braids always was the first official sign of courting, because it was usually accompanied by a clasp made by the suitor. But even without that, Bilbo was making his intentions clear and the dwarven prince had no choice but to accept them.

Returning with the desired comb, Thorin took his place again, but had lost all interest in his metalwork. His eyes were fixed on the hobbit and his youngest nephew, as Bilbo carefully parted Kíli’s hair and untangled it, before cautiously brushing through the strands and then redoing Kíli’s braids nearly perfectly.

 

When Kíli woke up to a tender nudging of his shoulder, he smiled at Bilbo and thanked him. Looking around, he realized that Fíli was missing. Looking at his uncle in utter confusion, he saw the barest hint of agitation settled in the older dwarf’s features. He wanted to ask Thorin what was wrong, but concern for his brother – Fíli usually didn’t leave him without telling him where he went – made him leave nevertheless.

He found Fíli on their shared bed, face distorted by sadness and pain. Kíli instantly sank to his knees in front of his brother and looked up at him worriedly.

He nearly felt his heart breaking, when he saw tears in Fíli’s eyes. Tears his sibling forcefully fought down, but he was unable to hold them in anymore when Kíli looked up at him. Carefully reaching for his brother’s hands, he whispered: “What’s wrong, Fee?”

 

Trying to break free, but being trapped by his brother’s rather forceful grip, Fíli spat out: “So the halfling has made his choice, regardless of what he said. It’s not surprising that it is you. I get the throne, you get the hobbit and our people get fed. What more could we wish for?”

 

It took Kíli some time to work out what Fíli was implying. The truth was, Kíli hadn’t thought anything about Bilbo’s offering to redo his braids. His mother had done it loads of times and his uncle too. The hobbit was not courting him; he had just tried to be helpful. The Shirelings were so different from the dwarrows that Kíli was absolutely sure that no courting was involved when one braided another’s hair.

This theory had been born when he had dashed towards the market the other day. There he had seen several girls braiding one another’s hair. He had watched one hobbit lass fixing the hair of another and one little lady had even asked him to redo her plait, when a particularly strong gust of wind had loosened her tresses, but her arms were full of the most mouth-watering merchandise. Nobody had thought anything about that, and Kíli had done it with a smile, and had received, as payment, one of the delicious cookies that the little lady sold on the market.

Reaching for his brother lovingly, he tried to explain: “Fee, the hobbits don’t think anything about braiding each other’s hair. Bilbo doing mine was no different than uncle doing it. I have seen it on the marketplace several times. Cooking food is probably more important for them than redoing plaits. If you are unsure, you could just ask him to do yours. You’ll see, he won’t refuse.”

 

Looking down at his brother, partially hopeful but mostly in disbelief, Fíli touched their foreheads before leaving the room. He too could use a bath, and when he was soaking he might be able to make up his mind about whether Kíli’s assessments were correct or not.

 

Knowing that following Fíli right now was not a good idea, Kíli returned to the living room, where his uncle was still brooding and Bilbo had returned to the book Fíli had abandoned on the floor. After checking his reflection in the window, Kíli sat down in front of Bilbo and asked: “How are you so skilled in braiding hair?”

Looking at the young dwarf, Bilbo closed the book and smiled: “Because I have about a dozen nieces, and at our festivities, when the braids of the little girls simply won’t hold, at least a dozen more heads to care for. With that amount of hair, you learn your way to untangle and braid. Otherwise the fauntlings would hurt themselves when running wild. I can weave hair over and under, with three, four or five strands. I can even braid a crown from the top of their heads.”

True, Bilbo may have been a little braggy about his ability to braid hair, but several of his family members and friends, tended to go to him to do their hair on special occasions. He was even able to crown them with flowers, if he had enough of them at hand. Therefore a few dwarven-braids were no problem for him, especially after he had watched Thorin several times doing it for his nephews in the morning when they were late but their braids were coming undone.

A low voice drew him out of his musings, when Fíli stood at the door of the living room. Clad like his brother, he obviously had made good use of the bathroom and now asked in an uncharacteristically shy voice: “Would you braid mine too?”

Smiling up at him and beckoning him closer, Bilbo answered with a little wink: “Of course, come along. It will be done swiftly and properly, Master Dwarf.”

Bilbo drew his legs under him when Fíli sat down on the floor in front of him, because Kíli also approached them with the obvious air of planning to sit next to his sibling. Giving the boys enough space, he drew his comb through Fíli’s wet strands with the same caution he had used on Kíli. Slowly, brush by brush, he felt the young man in front of him relax more and more. When Bilbo finally came to the actual braiding, he realized that the two brothers had intertwined their fingers in front of them, and sat tightly snuggled against each other. Deciding not to comment on that, Bilbo just finished his work, before announcing that he had to go to the kitchen and check on dinner to give the Durins some time to themselves.

 

When he was convinced that the stew was coming around nicely, he returned the living room, only to ask Thorin with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes: “Well, Mr. Oakenshield. Would you care for your plaits to be redone as well? After that much exercise, I am even sure that I could braid five strands easily if that is what you would desire.”

Expecting to coax a laugh out of his oldest dwarf, Bilbo was a little taken aback when Thorin simply shook his head and left the room without another word, stalking to the front door. When he heard the door close a little more forcefully than necessary, he turned towards the Durin brothers. “Did I say something wrong?”

Both Fíli and Kíli could see the worry in their hobbit’s face, but unable to say anything without revealing their purpose here, Kíli simply shook his head, while Fíli explained: “Uncle Thorin doesn’t really like anybody outside of our family to braid his hair. Don’t think about it.”

 

Bilbo hesitated a little before returning to the kitchen. He started to whip up a salad with fresh green leaves, juicy cucumber and a few slices of onion, but couldn’t keep his mind on the food. After having chopped everything up, he placed the salad and the casserole on the dining table and told the boys to pick themselves up from the floor and go set the table, shoo!

When they were busy, Bilbo tiptoed to the front door and opened it in search for Thorin. He spotted the dwarf almost instantly, sitting on the bench in the front garden. A little unsure because of his obvious faux pas, Bilbo hesitated before sitting down beside him.

“I … I didn’t mean to imply anything. And I didn’t mean to make fun of you, Thorin,” he said after a little while.

Worrying once again, because the dwarf refrained from commenting, Bilbo dared a glance and saw Thorin’s face in the dark, somehow overshadowed by sorrow. The hobbit wished so much to just put an arm around his friend and comfort him, but didn’t dare to, because the dwarf’s body was rigid and taut as a bowstring.

After a while the taller male rose and simply said: “Don’t think about it. Just take good care of my nephews.” After that he retreated for the night without even bidding his family goodnight.

The dinner was strained and laced with tension. Fíli and Kíli left soon afterwards. But Bilbo sat in front of the fireplace for a very long time. Clearly he had made a cultural mistake. He had done something he had not been supposed to do. But he was unable to figure out what, and his library only contained stories, but no actual information on dwarven culture, so he had no chance of finding out what had gone wrong that evening.

 

When Thorin retreated to his room that night, he felt like a stone had settled in his gut. They were considerably closer to their goal, with the hobbit showing a certain interest in his nephews. So why did the thought sit so ill with him? Why did he feel as if he couldn’t breathe anymore? Bilbo was a real gentlehobbit. He was treating his nephews with kindness and care. He hadn’t even slept a single night in his own bed when Kíli had been sick. What more could Thorin wish for in his nephews’ consort?

Looking out of the round window, towards the sky where stars started to appear one by one, he remembered a certain night not too long ago, when he had looked at the same sky, sitting on the front bench with said hobbit at his side. Wrapped up in a blanket, he had felt the warmth of the small body beside him and had felt completely at ease with himself as well as the world, at least for a few precious moments. Did he begrudge his nephews their potential happiness with that precious creature? They already had one another, so … maybe.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin felt really bad the next morning for having brushed off the hobbit in such a rude manner the night before. He avoided him at breakfast, because he felt that a simple apology wouldn’t be enough.

When Daisy Proudfoot arrived at the forge around midday with lunch, she offered him a bunch of roses, along with his usual bread and a bottle of ale.

After his second week in the Shire, the young hobbit-lass had begun to show interest in Thorin and had come around every day around midday. Sometimes Bilbo had been around, but after the hobbit had talked to her one day, he had stopped returning to the blacksmith's shop at lunchtime.

Thorin thought that an arrangement between cousins, because as far as he knew, Bilbo was related to almost everybody in the Shire. So he had enjoyed his lunch with the shy little lady, told her stories about the Blue Mountains and their travel from Erebor to the Shire, and listened to her going on and on about her baking, her flowers, and especially a new breed of roses she took a lot of pride in.

So when she presented him with the flowers, he immediately offered a compliment, and brought them with him in the evening, arranging them in one of Bilbo’s vases on the kitchen table. Flowers were good, especially for hobbits.

When Bilbo finally entered the kitchen, Thorin fumbled a little with the vase before admitting: “Bilbo, I shouldn’t have been so rude yesterday evening. I am really sorry for it.”

But the hobbit just smiled and shook his head. “Don’t think about it, Thorin. I just …” Stepping up to the dwarf, Bilbo put his hand on the taller man’s arm and looked up at him with worry. “I wish you would tell me what I have done wrong. I want you to feel at home here, and not insult you by accident because of my ignorance about your culture.”

Thorin just looked at his hands, unsure of what to say, and slightly shoved the vase with the blooming roses into Bilbo’s direction.

 

Accepting that he would not get a straight answer out of his guest for now, Bilbo looked at the flowers and smiled. But after a moment he stepped up to them and inspected them from up close.

They were a beautiful shade of red on the outer leaves, but the lower part of the pedals was of blazing white. Two-coloured roses were highly uncommon in the Shire. The only person who had them in her garden was …

“Did you get those from Daisy?” Bilbo wasn’t sure, but to his knowledge his second cousin still wasn’t selling them, because she didn’t think them pretty enough.

 

Thorin just shrugged his shoulders and revealed: “Yes. She brought them along with lunch. She is really a nice girl. It’s really generous of her to bring me lunch in your place, so that you wouldn’t have to go down to the market every day.”

Bilbo blanched a little at that revelation. “Ahm … Thorin? I never asked Daisy to bring you lunch. She offered because she fancies you. The lunch and the flowers are a hobbit’s way of telling you that.”

Now it was Thorin’s turn to pale. Stuttering he looked at the roses and seemed completely lost of what to do.

After a little while, where both men had looked at the beautiful bouquet uneasily, Thorin took a deep breath and decided: “I will return them in the morning. And I will ask her not to come around anymore. I … I don’t want to...” A little lost for, words he looked at Bilbo, but the hobbit understood.

“You wouldn’t want to evoke false hopes. She is a fine young lass, you know. She would …”

Thorin swallowed hard and held his breath for a moment. When he finally looked at the hobbit, there was something in his eyes Bilbo couldn’t place, but he felt sudden warmth spread all over him when the dwarf interrupted him: “I enjoyed lunch with you far more than with your cousin,” before leaving the kitchen.

 

For a moment Bilbo was completely taken aback by that admission. Cupping his flaming cheeks with his shivering hands, he took a deep breath, then another, and another, until he had to sit down because he felt dizzy. Had Thorin Oakenshield just confessed to him that he liked Bilbo more than his female cousin?

It was stupid of Bilbo to even think that way. Of course the dwarf would have no personal interest in him. He was a warrior, even if he was generous enough to help at the forge over one summer. Bilbo was just a simple hobbit, a respectable Baggins from Bag End, but a hobbit nevertheless.

Surely Thorin had only said that because he realized that with Bilbo there would be no tripping hazards he had to avoid with hobbit culture. Bilbo explained himself when Thorin didn’t understand a cultural reference or a particular habit. So generally it was just the familiarity, and nothing else. It was stupid of him to read more into the situation than what was actually there.

But nevertheless, Bilbo felt giddy and light-headed at the prospect of having lunch with Thorin every day of the week.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	12. A cursed Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Admit it, you all knew that the thain's letter Thorin was carrying at the beginning, would be important at some point.

It turned out that lunch solely between Bilbo and Thorin was indeed a very nice affair. A little uneasy at first, because still hobbit-lads and lasses came around to look at the famous dwarven blacksmith, Thorin soon made it clear with subtle gestures that he didn’t want to be disturbed when Bilbo was with him.

He closed the front-door half-way. He put his hammer outside. He even tried to find a bunch of flowers now and then; he collected them for Bilbo, because the little hobbit seemed to like them so much.

Still many nights he worked on a piece of metal, trying to inlay it with semi-precious stones that could be bought in the Shire, or engraving it with patterns, though he never shared the outcome with his host. He had dozens of workpieces already, some even moulded into a clasp. But he had not found a single one of them suitable to offer it to his hobbit. Instead he forged him a new kitchen-knife when he found Bilbo’s own one bent and nearly broken. He made a big copper pan for the halfling, because Bilbo was constantly worrying that his pots weren’t big enough to satisfy his guests’ needs. Every gift he offered was received with the most brilliant smile and the most heart-warming thanks, sometimes even an overexcited hug, and secretly Thorin almost always hoped for those.

Usually they were met with a special meal in the evening or a rather extraordinary cake for dessert. Fíli and Kíli’s favourite thank-you gift had been a chocolate cake with butter-crème-filling Bilbo had baked for Thorin after he had received the knife. But Thorin had preferred the strawberry-cake with whipped cream, because the cake seemed to be Bilbo’s favourite too. The hobbit had had this brilliant glow illuminating his features all through the evening when he had served it, and his radiance had only increased when Thorin had complimented his cake beyond compare.

 

The dwarven prince had often asked himself after that day, whether things would have turned out differently if he had picked up his courage and kissed Bilbo that very night. He had wanted to. His body seemed to be drawn to the joyful halfling nearly all the time. He wanted to touch Bilbo, to put his arms around him, to kiss him and braid his hair, because he wanted the world to see that this hobbit belonged to him and him alone.

But every time those impulses arose he fought them down viciously. He was not here to overwhelm the hobbit with his affection, to drag him to the mountains with him, so that he could present him as his consort for the entire world to see. No, Thorin and his nephews were here because they had to persuade Bilbo that dwarrows were able to change from their usual hard-headed and arrogant ways. That they were able to act respectful and obedient, so that, at the end of the summer, Bilbo would maybe find it in him to vouch for at least one of them in front of his thain. This one would have to stay with him forever, but Thorin saw less and less hardship in that fate.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo felt giddy and joyful through these beautiful days of summer. The weather was getting warmer. His garden stood in full bloom and finally, he had been able to come up with a solution for the boys’ living arrangements. Heading home from a late lunch with Thorin, he made a quick trip to the tailor and had a meeting with a local farmer afterwards. He was planning to have a new mattress, a really big one, stuffed for his young guests. Soft and luscious like a bedding should be, Bilbo planned to spread it over both beds, to make a single big one for them.

After leaving the cover for the mattress behind, being promised that it would be delivered around tea-time, he went to work in Fíli and Kíli’s room. First he stripped the beds once again. Only a little more than a week had passed since Kíli’s illness, but it would do no good to place old linen on a new mattress. Being in the room anyway, he started to pick up their clothes and readied them for laundry and changed the flowers in the vase. When everything was neat and tidy once more, he went for the kitchen to bake an almond cake for his guests to enjoy after dinner.

When his cousin Otho delivered the bedding around tea-time, he helped Bilbo to push the heavy wooden beds together, and they secured them with several pieces of rope. After that Bilbo served him tea and biscuits and they chatted for over an hour, before Otho remembered that he had to get home because Lobelia was waiting for him. Bilbo simply shook his head at the abrupt take-off and returned to his preparations for Fíli and Kíli’s arrival.

A thin quilt was rolled up and stuffed between the mattresses of the two beds to fill up the gap in the middle. The new bedding suited the combination of the two beds beautifully, but needed to be covered by a big quilt rather than linen, because Bilbo didn’t own sheets wide enough for the vast expanse of the new mattress. He had to remember to order those too when he was in the village tomorrow.

Happily he looked at the bed, completed with the fresh covers, the two cushions and beddings, as well as the furs he had bought for them at the beginning of the summer. Finally everything was ready for the return of the boys.

His Tookish side was rearing its head, when he dashed into his pantry and returned with a pot of almond-oil, placing it on the bedside table, at the far side of the room. Content with this day’s achievements, Bilbo decided to take care of the boys’ dirty clothes himself, because in this weather they would be dry and in the cupboard before anybody would notice, that the hobbit had washed them.

Bilbo was humming a little melody when he did the laundry, remembering the first time he had done this for his guests. After their initial arrival, where they had really looked like something the cat had dragged through the rain, all three Durins seemed rather stressed at the idea of him doing their washing.

The hobbit didn’t see a lot of difference between that and cooking their meals, something all of his guests enjoyed tremendously. But he had realized that when his dwarrows had set their minds on something, it was best not to stand in their way. Therefore, this was the first time when he had even picked up some of their clothing to attend to them.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When his cohabitants finally returned home, they were greeted by a hearty meal of rabbit stew with baked potatoes. As usual, Fíli and Kíli wolfed it down, while telling about their day at Falco and Amanda’s. They had become really good co-workers for his cousin, and Bilbo was so proud of the big salad-bowl they had made for him only this week that he tried to use it daily.

But he still realized that they were slightly holding back around him, never completely at ease with each other. Bilbo was determined to put an end to this charade tonight -- apart from telling them to their faces that he liked them and was happy for them, even though he knew them to be lovers. Therefore he dearly hoped that the changed sleeping arrangements were a suitable way to express his unconditional acceptance, without really having to speak about it.

So when they retreated to their room after supper, Bilbo couldn’t help himself but to follow on tiptoes. They entered their room laughing and making fun of each other, like they usually did, but froze instantly when they realized that, instead of two beds, now a single, giant, double-bed dominated the room. Feeling rewarded by that reaction alone, Bilbo silently closed the door to the guest-room before returning to the kitchen, to help Thorin with the washing up.

 

Fíli and Kíli on the other hand ~~,~~ stood in their room and took in their new bed. Unable to believe their eyes, they hesitantly stepped up to the bed, brushing the wood they knew so well with their fingertips, spanning the tiny gap that separated one bed from the other.

Fíli was the first one to lose his composure and sat down hard on the new, plush mattress. Kíli stepped around and discovered the small, ceramic-jar on the bedside table. When he opened it, a slightly sweet smell filled the room. Dipping the finger into it, he discovered the nature of the hobbit’s gift -- well, the second gift, actually the third gift -- because the oil and the bed paled in comparison to the message their halfling was sending with the modified bed.

“He knows,” were the first words Kíli muttered, after carefully closing the jar and returning it to the small table.

Fíli looked up at his brother in utter disbelief and all he could do was nod, before he added: “And he is OK with it.”

“Look at this, Kíli,” the young prince continued now getting more and more excited. “He did this for us. He knows and he did this to tell us that. To make us comfortable!”  
Fíli’s eyes were shining like the sun now, when he scrambled over the expanse of the bed towards his brother, dragging down the dwarf into a passionate kiss.

Kíli complied only too willingly, pouring all his love and all his joy and all his relief into their contact, and after a few moments both of them were rolling around in their new bed, limbs entangled, and just revelling in their comfortable surroundings.

When they finally calmed down, the younger brother looked up from his resting place on his brother’s chest and whispered: “We should tell him, Fíli. It’s not right that he is the only one who doesn’t know.”

Closing his eyes frowning, Fíli couldn’t help but nod. Nevertheless, in the next moment he shook his head and stated: “We can’t, Kíli. We are not allowed, Uncle was very strict in that matter.”

“But he would help. I know he would! Look what he has already done for us. When we tell him how dire the situation of the kingdom is, Bilbo surely will try to help us.” Kíli’s eyes were pleading, his fingers clutched onto his brother’s tunic, when he spoke on behalf of their halfling. Constantly keeping something as important as their reason for being here from Bilbo was harder and harder for both boys, the more they grew to like their hobbit.

Still the older brother shook his head and took his lover’s face in his hands, to calm him down. In a low voice he whispered: “We can’t, Kee. We mustn’t tell him, under no circumstances, because while I agree with you that Bilbo would do everything in his power to help, look around. Does he look like he is rich enough to feed several hundred dwarrows? We need the thain to help us. Otherwise many of our people will starve to death this winter. We can’t risk that, Kíli, we simply can’t!”

But although the young heir of Durin knew about the direness of their situation, he felt very much like Kíli at the moment. Not telling Bilbo what was going on felt like betraying their host and it sat like a heavy stone on Fíli’s chest.

There was nothing they could do about it, so he simply dragged his brother down to his chest again. Silently they lay in their comfortable new bed and thought about a way to repay Bilbo his kindness. Never before in their whole lives had anyone ever accepted them so easily and with the least prejudice as this extraordinary halfling had done. Abusing him for their selfish goals, even if it meant staying behind and serving him for the rest of their lives as a settlement, simply felt wrong.

 

The boys were uncharacteristically silent when they returned to the living-room right before supper. Instantly Bilbo rose from his chair, looking at them with worry. Didn’t they like their new bed? Had he misinterpreted their interaction? But then – how could you misinterpret two people entwined with each other – brothers or not?

He was prepared to explain his choice of their new sleeping arrangement, but what he certainly wasn’t prepared for was both Durins stepping up to him at the same time and encompassing him in a bone-crushing hug.

He could feel them quiver beneath his arms, their hands holding onto his shirt for dear life. Smiling lovingly, he started to pet their backs, calming them down with little nonsensical noises, when he felt his shirt getting wetter and wetter on his shoulders where their faces lay. When they did let go of him a long while later, he looked into their eyes that were a little red in this firelight, but couldn’t help but smile, when he saw them standing a little uneasy before him.

Brushing their hair off their faces with a gentle gesture he ordered: “Off you go, lads. It’s time to set the table.” Overwhelmed one more time, when four arms engulfed him, Bilbo could only hear their whispered thank-yous before Fíli and Kíli disappeared into the dining room.

Smiling to himself, Bilbo returned to the kitchen where Thorin had insisted that he was well-versed enough with cutlery by now to prepare the salad all by himself. Wrestling the last – not brutally slaughtered – cucumber out of Thorin’s hand, Bilbo started to slice the vegetable up properly, before arranging in on the salad in a circle, to frame the delightful picture of red and green leaves with white onion and red and white radishes that composed a salad in his new bowl.

After dinner the boys took care of the washing up, but retreated to their bedchamber not long after that. Bilbo just winked at them and earned a fit of giggles, before returning to the book he had just read to Thorin.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When they first met the next morning, Bilbo asked Thorin if the dwarf could pick up some orders Bilbo had placed at the local tailor. Of course Thorin accepted and made his way to the bathroom while Bilbo trailed into the kitchen.

The sight that greeted him there, however, made him reach for the broom. His voice echoed through the whole of Bag End when he shouted: “Fíli! Kíli! Get off! That’s GROSS!”

The brothers instantly blanched and looked at Bilbo with growing fear. But the hobbit was too wrapped up in his anger to notice their immediate reaction when he dragged them off his kitchen-counter.

Obviously getting carried away when trying to get breakfast, Fíli had sat on the counter and Kíli stepped between his legs. In that position they had been on their way of kissing the hell out of each other, until Bilbo had arrived.

His face was contorted with stunned disbelief when he accused them: “I can’t believe you two. We prepare food there! That is UTTERLY unsanitary!” slapping both of their arms with his broom for good measure; he pushed them away and demanded: “Leave. Immediately, before I give in to the urge to empty a bucket of cold water over you, so that you learn NOT to do that in the kitchen!”

Shaking his head at them, and looking at the two boys who now stood before him like fauntlings being berated by their mother, Bilbo took a deep breath and calmed himself down. He could almost laugh at their crestfallen faces, their refusal to meet his eye. So he just let out a frustrated breath before scolding a little more composed: “Go. If you need to snog out the hell out of each other, at least go to the living room.”

He didn’t see the shudder of relief that washed over both bodies, because he had already started to scrub the counter, so that he could start to make scones for breakfast.

When he felt a quick hug from the young dwarrows, he could barely hold back his laughter before ushering them, once again, out of his kitchen. He was on his way to get the ingredients for the scones when he realized that Thorin was standing in the doorway, looking at him flabbergasted. Hesitating a moment, Bilbo looked at his friend questioning.

 

“You know. And you are … you are … accepting of their interactions in your house?” Thorin had been drawn to the kitchen by their hobbit’s incredulous shouting. When he had watched their small halfling telling off two full-grown dwarven warriors and reducing them to shivering toddlers, he had been both horrified and strangely thrilled at the same time. At least until the point when the situation had caught up with him and he had realized that that really had been the first time their hobbit had yelled at any of them.

When Bilbo had just sent his nephews off to the living room to “snog”, Thorin hadn’t believed his own ears. Even with dwarrows Fíli and Kíli’s relationship was occasionally frowned upon, and it was almost always the talk of the day, when someone outside of their immediate circle of family and friends found out. Never, EVER had anybody so easily accepted the princes’ relationship as Bilbo Baggins.

The dwarf had needed a few moments to realize that Bilbo had berated his two boys for their sitting on his kitchen counter, and not for kissing each other. Leaning against the doorstep, suddenly feeling drained beyond compare – another situation that could have gone really bad, another situation that could have gone really bad had passed, thanks to their hobbit’s open-minded generosity – and inevitably Thorin asked himself how many more of these encounters would come to pass, until this summer was over, and how often they would be fortunate until their luck ran out.

 

Taking in Thorin’s sudden slump in posture, Bilbo was instantly upon him, dragging him to the bench in front of the window and promising a strong tea to energize him. Regarding Thorin’s question, the hobbit just shrugged his shoulder and answered: “And why shouldn’t I? As long as they keep themselves away from the areas where I prepare food, there is nothing to disagree with.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but make a little startled sound, when Thorin reached for his hand and brushed his lips over the hobbit’s wrist tenderly, before pressing Bilbo’s hand to his cheek and closing his eyes. For a mere heartbeat they remained that way before Thorin whispered: “You are the most precious being in all Middle-earth, and I wish there was a way to repay you for your benevolence.”

Being overwhelmed by the sudden display of tenderness, Bilbo stepped up to the dwarf, gently cradling his cheek, while wrapping his other arm around Thorin. Carefully the hobbit parted strands of dark hair, gently rubbing his fingertips over the dwarf’s skull, and the taller male seemed to melt into the caress almost instantly. Both enjoyed their closeness for a few moments, before Kíli shouted from the living-room whether there was anything the brothers could help Bilbo with, to speed up breakfast.

Breaking away, Bilbo smiled at his dwarven guest who seemed a little embarrassed by their interaction. But the hobbit didn’t think anything of it. He had noticed right at the beginning that dwarrows were not the cuddliest of creatures. But as they had nonetheless accepted his hugs and occasional caresses, Bilbo had never thought about holding back. They were in the Shire after all, and a little more openness against physical contact wouldn’t hurt them.

 

Whipping up a fast breakfast, with only roasted slices of toast instead of fresh scones, because they were out of time; ham, eggs and some leftover blueberry cake, Bilbo saw his housemates out, before tending to cleaning-up his home. Nearly half of his dwarrows’ visit has passed, and his grandfather had announced himself for lunch around midday tomorrow.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Not wanting to leave the impression that Bilbo would let any of his duties as Master of Bag End slip just because of his guests, the hobbit attacked any smudge and every tiny dust-bunny with vengeance. He brushed and cleaned and polished every last corner he had neglected for the last few weeks. Only in the late afternoon, when every last piece of floor and furniture in Bag End glowed highly polished in the late afternoon sunlight, he strolled towards the entrance hall.

All three dwarrows kept their coats there, in case of cold weather. But because it was high summer by now, they surely would not need them for at least four weeks, maybe even until their departure. So Bilbo took first Fíli’s and then Kíli’s coat off the hooks, and dusted them out, before placing them in the boys’ room.

Thorin’s coat was last. Smiling at the skilful embroideries at the seams and the rich furs that covered its neckline, Bilbo took special care to dust it out, so as not to damage the beautiful piece.

When a folded piece of parchment fell out, the hobbit didn’t think too much of it. He just picked it up and wanted to put it back in the inside pocket, when his eyes fell on the signature of his grandfather. Setting the coat aside with a frown, Bilbo opened the letter and froze. He read it once, he read it twice, but still the mindboggling words remained the same:

 

  
 

 

Bilbo still stood in his entryway when Thorin finally returned from work. It took the dwarven prince only a moment to understand what was going on. Having hung onto the document for the journey to the Shire, he had all but forgotten about it, the more the hobbit had grown on him. But there was no way out of it now. He should have put the cursed letter away, hell -- burned that stupid piece of parchment, because the look in Bilbo’s eyes was one of utter betrayal and discomposure and it nearly broke Thorin‘s heart.

Only a tiny fraction of hope held Bilbo upright, when he raised the correspondence, looked up at the dwarf and asked: “Can you tell me what this is, Thorin? Because from my point of view, it looks like you are only in my house and nice to me because the thain forced you to.”  
There had to be an explanation. A very, very good explanation, why, by his grandfather’s command, three dwarrows had come to Bag End and needed to be “judged” for something he could not even fathom.

He knew of his grandfather’s animosity towards dwarrows. But, as far as Bilbo was concerned, neither Thorin nor his nephews could be deemed any sort of criminals who deserved judgement. And there was something else, something important, but Bilbo just couldn’t wrap his mind around it, through the feeling of being tricked into liking his dwarrows, all for the wrong reasons. He felt manipulated, betrayed by people he had learned to like so very much.

And apart from everything else, who was he to decide other people’s fates? None of this made any sense, and Bilbo’s head started to spin at the thought, that even a marriage was in the picture. Therefore he desperately looked to his friend for any explanation.

 

But Thorin simply stood in the doorway, head bowed and his face hidden behind the long strands of his dark hair. His whole posture spoke of defeat, maybe because the letter stated that Bilbo had to remain oblivious to the arrangement that had been agreed between the thain of the Shire and the king of the Blue Mountains.

When Thorin finally started to explain, Bilbo’s fingers crumpled the piece of parchment in his hand so heavily, that his knuckles turned white.

 

“We came here by the order of our king. Our people were starving during the last two winters, and we won’t make it through the coming one. We need the help of the Shire to feed our people, and the thain, Master Took, only agreed on the condition that at least one member of our clan proves himself worthy. Worthy by your judgement and therefore worthy of your help.” Thorin’s voice was flat and lifeless when he continued.

“We were supposed to come here and make you believe that we DID care about you. We didn’t help when you needed us two winters ago. So the thain thought us stubborn and arrogant and unable to deal with your race in a respectful manner. If you had judged one of us suitable to serve and obey, the thain promised to trade with us,” Thorin concluded, watching Bilbo with an anxious look and the plea in his eyes for the hobbit to understand.

“I am sorry, Bilbo. I am so sorry, but you have to understand! Although I have ruined everything by now, by breaking the rules your thain had placed on all of us, I beg you! Please … please, help our people. I am willing to put my life in your hands. If you wish, I will stay here for the rest of my days as your humble servant, but please Bilbo. Please, help me help my people. Don’t let a whole kingdom of dwarrows starve to death because of my mistakes!”

Shivering due to anxiety and fear, Thorin stood in front of the hobbit and looked at him imploringly. He was willing to kneel, willing to grovel, willing to do everything that needed to be done, to ensure Bilbo’s help. The charade was over now. There was nothing Thorin could say or do to convince the hobbit that this was not a mere act forced upon all of them by two headstrong leaders who only wanted what they thought best for their people.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo didn’t say anything for a very, very long time, and when Thorin finally dared to meet his eyes there was so much fury in the hazel orbs, that the dwarven prince instinctively took a step back. That motion however seemed to raise Bilbo out of his angry stupor, because with a hiss he stated: “I will go now and see the Old Took. I believe I have a word or two for him!”

And with that Bilbo Baggins, Master of Bag End, respectable hobbit of the Shire, left his home and closed the door so forcefully that every glass in his smial rattled, because the vibrations shook the very earth.

 

Thorin leaned against the wall completely drained. Now everything lay in the hands of this enraged creature. Only one hour earlier, Thorin would have sworn – by Mahal, bet his future crown on it! – that there was no one kinder, gentler or more forgiving in all Middle-earth than Bilbo Baggins.  But the overwhelming anger he had seen in his host’s ... in all probability, his former host’s eyes, had him see the hobbit in a whole new light. Because right now, Bilbo looked ready to bring kings to their knees.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I finish the first Act of my story, I would like to take my time to thank each and every one of you lovely readers profoundly. I am writing this story as much for myself as I write it for you and I strive on each and every one of you, who graces my story with a comment or kudos. My heart-felt thank you for that.
> 
> Tomorrow I will dash away on a short trip to Germany. Being native Austrian this will take a little while, and while I will be back on Sunday, I am afraid I have to leave you hanging for four long days until I can post the last chapter of the first part of the story. Don't worry, the next four chapters after that are already in construction, they just need to be read over and corrected and polished-up to be worthy of you.
> 
> So I hope you will have a lovely extended weekend for all those who are Central-European and share my bank-holiday tomorrow. And for those of you who are not, have great week and a relaxing weekend nevertheless.
> 
> Love you all, I really do, because without you, writing this would be half as much fun as it is!


	13. Clash of the Tooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fallout!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, back from holiday. Warm hugs for all of you who wished me well. And for your undying patience and everlasting support, the final chapter of the first act. Enjoy :)
> 
> As before, the picture in this chapter was included after a had received permission to post them from Kaci.  
> You can find the original picture here: http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/44116656070 along with a lot other drawings from her skilled hand's.

Though hesitant, Thorin left the smial only moments after Bilbo. No matter what the hobbit had said, the thain was something akin to a ruler among these people, at least from what Thorin had understood of the hierarchy of the Shire. He couldn‘t let Bilbo face his wrath alone, not if he could help it. It didn‘t take him long to catch up with the hobbit, even when the little one was storming down the hill.

Thorin hesitated, but then picked up his pace again; he had to at least try to make Bilbo understand the direness of their situation. To plead with him to see reason and help them.

But as soon as he had reached the hobbit, Bilbo just whipped around, holding up his hand to stop Thorin, even before the dwarf had said anything.

  
 

Bilbo‘s voice shook with barely contained anger when he spit out: „Don‘t … just … don‘t, Thorin! I really, REALLY don‘t want to hear it right now!“ before continuing his way, down to the village.

So the dwarven prince had no choice but to tail after his hobbit miserably, waiting for his world to crash and burn.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When Bilbo entered the Old Took‘s home uninvited, he was instantly confronted with Adamanta Took who held her youngest on her hip. Being no fool, the woman took in the state of her grandson immediately, even before spotting the letter in his hand her husband had written nearly three months ago. She kissed Bilbo on the forehead and called for her second youngest child to get out of the house, letting grandfather and grandson sort things out by themselves.

As soon as his grandmother had left the smial – and ignoring one last attempt of Thorin‘s to speak to him - Bilbo stormed into the old Took‘s study and slammed the letter on the writing desk rather forcefully. Gerontius, too, took in Bilbo‘s fury instantly and glared daggers at the dwarf who had followed him rather wretchedly. Angrily he growled: „He was not to see that letter. How dare you break our agreement?“

„This is not about Thorin! LOOK AT ME, DAMN IT!“ Bilbo shouted, demanding the other hobbit‘s attention for himself. „How could you do that? What did you think by throwing three dwarrows at me? Did you really think that one of them could spark my interest if you forced them into it?“

Evening out the paper, he stabbed the writing as if it had personally offended him, before continuing in a furious tone: „And what, by all that is holy, should I judge them by, if you force a behaviour on them that contradicts their own? Judgement? And marriage? Honestly?“

Being accused and yelled at did not sit very well with the old Took. So he slowly rose from his seat and glared at Bilbo. But when the hobbit refused to retreat he hissed: „This was NOT about YOU, Bilbo! It’s about them!“ pointing his finger at Thorin accusingly he continued: „They are an arrogant and condescending race! We deserve better than being looked down at by them! I wanted them to prove that they could act like decent beings. At least one of them. You were only meant to judge that! So that I would know if we should trade with them once again. As for the marriage. That never really was in the picture!“

Shaking his head in utter disbelieve when the message finally sunk in, Bilbo stated angrily: „You never expected them to succeed. You never expected ANY of them to pass your little test. That‘s why you sent them to me. You hoped that my prejudice would mirror your own. But you know what? You are wrong! I found them to be decent people, and they don’t deserve to be sold into servitude just to help their people. Even when they are in desperate need of our help, that‘s a too high a price to pay.“

Now it was the Old Took‘s time to get angry. He hissed at the young man in front of him: „Too high a price to pay?” He turned on heel, rounding on Thorin who stood beside the door, completely at loss of what to do. “And what price would YOU deem appropriate for Belladonna‘s life?“ The dwarf flinched under the hobbit’s anger. „If it were not for their arrogance and pride, my daughter and her husband would still be alive!“

 

Thorin exhaled in sudden understanding and sagged against the wall. So that was a reason for this cruel test. It was a very good reason, he had to admit. He understood now why this hobbit was so angry at them and had given them this colossal task to prove themselves. He had lost his daughter, because of Thrain‘s refusal to help. Thorin was sure that nothing could surprise him by now. The outcome of them being send home again without any support was inevitable in the dwarf’s mind. Honestly, he wondered why the thain had given them this last chance at all, especially after losing his child. Thorin doubted that either his father or even he would have been lenient enough for that.

 

Bilbo had followed the thain‘s line of sight and felt the fury drain out of him, when he saw Thorin slumping against the wall. The anger was still present, still a lingering heat inside of his body, but the burning fury dimmed when he saw the look of utter defeat and hopelessness in his friend‘s face.

Turning around once again, his words were nothing but a whisper when he stated: „You cannot know that, grandfather.“ He lowered his head, to hide the tears that started to stream down his cheeks. Partially because he was still terribly angry, but mainly because he thought of what his mother would think of her father and her son, were she to witness them fighting so horribly.

Bilbo shook his head and continued in a broken voice: „Maybe they would still be with us. Maybe not. We can never know what could have happened and though I admit that the dwarrows were wrong to deny us their help, what you did wasn‘t much better.“ Looking at his grandfather with terrible disappointment, he continued: „Two wrongs don‘t make one right. Your daughter has taught me better!“

Returning his gaze to Thorin who now looked at him with utter shock, Bilbo picked up his courage. He WOULD make this right. Just like his mother would expect from him. With steel in his voice he told his grandfather: „Whatever my decision, you will support me every step of the way.“

When the Old Took just nodded, Bilbo turned around and stepped up to a devastated dwarf. Obviously Thorin had not known that Bilbo was the grandson of Gerontius Took. Neither had he been able to imagine the loss the dwarven king‘s refusal had caused the hobbit. The last few minutes seemed to have overwhelmed him. So Bilbo waited for him to pick himself up again, before stating in a very clear voice: „Thorin Oakenshield, I, Bilbo Baggins, offer you my hand in marriage. Do you accept?“

Swaying slightly because Thorin couldn‘t believe his ears, he looked at Bilbo and asked in a whisper: „But why …“

The hobbit, however, was obviously NOT willing to have that discussion right then and there, because he repeated his question, rather insistent: „Do you accept?“

Thorin could only look from the determined eyes of Bilbo, to the rather cold ones of the Old Took. The thain now stood beside his desk, arms folded in front of his chest, gazing at him angrily as if he dared Thorin to make a wrong move now.

Realizing that this really was his last resort, Thorin did the only thing he could and sank down on his knee in front of the hobbit. Gently he took Bilbo‘s small hand into his own, before lowering his head, and humbly admitted: „I would be honoured beyond compare, to call you my husband.“

 

Upon his agreement Gerontius stepped up to them and growled at Bilbo: „You can‘t do this, Bilbo. You don’t even love him! Don‘t throw your life away like that.“

Bilbo however seemed unwilling to accept any accusations or criticism from the hobbit who had forced his hand. Not here, not now! So the young hobbit just stared at the elder for one heartbeat, before sliding his fingers into Thorin‘s hair, angling his face up, and descending his lips onto those of the dwarf rather forcefully.

Their very first kiss had nothing tender or gentle. Bilbo was staking a public claim and when he demanded entry into Thorin‘s mouth, the dwarf was helpless but to yield to him, intoxicated by Bilbo‘s lips against his own. Never in his whole life had anybody ever kissed him like that, not that many dwarrows had kissed him in the first place. So the dwarven prince swayed slightly under the on slaughter of sensation. Because no matter how angry Bilbo was at the moment, how forceful their contact, the hobbit was neither harmful nor cruel. During their kiss, feelings sparkled to life in Thorin‘s chest, he had never known before. He reeled slightly when the smaller hobbit suddenly let go of him.

Bilbo looked angrily at his grandfather one last time and emphasized: „… Every. Step. Of the way.“ Before he turned around and stormed out of the thain‘s home.

When Thorin slowly rose, Gerontius watched with determined eyes and promised: „If you hurt him, I will find you, and you will regret ever putting a foot into the Shire. Do I make myself clear?“

Thorin - far to shocked by the occurrences - could only nod and confirm: „Crystal clear, Master Took,“ before bowing deeply and following Bilbo with hesitant steps.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

As soon as he had left the thain’s smial he could see Bilbo‘s shrinking form at the end of the way, storming back towards Bag End. Unsure if he was supposed to follow him, if Bilbo so much as desired his presence at the moment, he followed his hobbit rather hesitantly.

What had just happened? Bilbo had offered him his hand. They obviously were engaged now. He should be happy about this, because now the hobbits of the Shire would help his people. Their survival was as good as ensured. So why did this outcome feel like a defeat? Thorin had gotten everything he could have wished for. Their plan had worked nearly perfectly. A hobbit had offered his hand, the thain had promised his support. Why was he not jumping with joy, but felt like retreating into a corner, hiding from the world?

 

When Bilbo stepped back into his home, he all but shook with suppressed emotions. What the hell had happened just now?

With a heart-rending cry Bilbo scrunched up the cursed letter and threw it into the next room to finally have it out of his sight.

Obviously Fíli and Kíli had returned in the meantime, because they were instantly upon him, as soon as the letter hit the floor. While the younger brother stepped up to Bilbo and looked down at him with worry, Fíli went to get the crumbled piece of paper, to find out what had infuriated their hobbit so much.

Kíli looked at his brother helplessly, when Bilbo refused to talk to him, but stood in the middle of his living room, hands balled to fists, breathing forcefully to calm himself down.

The older brother paled as soon as he identified the parchment, and simply turned it around to reveal it. Kíli inhaled sharply and turned back to Bilbo, asking timidly: „Do you … will you throw us out now?“

That frightened question shook Bilbo to the core, and instantly he looked at the two dwarrows in front of him. Half angry and half terribly saddened he asked: „You knew it? You knew it all along?“

Unable to find the right answer for that question, the prince‘s retracted to the truth and simply nodded. They intertwined their fingers for support, when Bilbo closed his eyes once again to fight down his overwhelming anger. What the both of them had had to go through while living in a home of someone who was oblivious to their troubles.

 

After a few moments, when their hobbit refused to answer them, Fíli picked up the courage and repeated Kíli’s question fearfully: „Do … you want us to go?“

Bilbo laughed dryly – a sound so atypical for their usually so cheerful hobbit that the brothers flinched a little when hearing it – before he stated: „I have just proposed to your uncle. So congratulations, your little plan worked out in the end,“ before turning around to leave the room.

It was Kíli‘s nearly inaudible voice that held him back, when the dwarf whispered to his brother: „We should have told him. Now he hates us.“ He slumped against his brother, sobbing quietly. Instantly Fíli wrapped his arms around him for comfort, but the truth was, he too felt close to tears, so there was not much support he could give.

 

Bilbo felt his shoulders sag when he turned back around, looking at the despairing boys. No matter how angry he was, at an unknown dwarven-king, at his grandfather, at the god damned world; that was no reason to take it out on the boys, who hadn‘t done the slightest thing to deserve his anger. Therefore he stated as calmly as he could: „I don‘t hate you Kíli, nor you, Fíli. I am just honest-to-god angry at my own family at the moment.“

After a heartbeat Kíli dared to raise his eyes from his brother’s shoulders and asked in a whisper: „If you plan to marry our uncle, doesn‘t that make us family too?“

Overwhelmed by the desperation and the longing in the young dwarf’s voice Bilbo, just shook his head at himself. How could he have thought for a single second, that the boys had been playing him? It didn‘t matter what that stupid letter said! Fíli and Kíli were HIS boys, at least for the summer. Maybe longer, if he married their uncle. So he simply opened his arms for them, and was instantly overwhelmed by their needy embraces.

 

Petting their backs gently, Bilbo whispered into their ears comfortingly: „Of course we are family. No matter what had happened, you are always welcomed in my home as if it was your own. We may not be kin, but I couldn’t love you more if we were. ~~  
~~But now please go. I need to clear my head for a little while, to find out where to go from here.“

Reluctantly, really, really reluctantly the dwarrows let go after a few more minutes and left the room, shaken but hopeful.

Bilbo was on his way towards the kitchen, baking something would calm him down and clear his head, when he heard the door once again. The hobbit had never thought that someone could open and close a door hesitantly, but Thorin Oakenshield - his future husband (!) - managed to do that quite skilfully.

Not strong enough for another emotional encounter, Bilbo stopped on his way and stated silently, without turning around: „I think you have humbled yourself enough for a lifetime. No need to keep up the charade from now on, you have got what you want. I will go now and prepare dinner. I will get to you when it‘s ready.“ He left the room.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin remained in the entrance hall for a very long time.  
He heard Bilbo attack some food with vengeance, to work out his anger about everything that had happened.

Only now was the dwarven prince able to identify what had sat so ill with him ever since Bilbo‘s proposal: The hobbit had asked him because he had felt obliged to do so, not because he had feelings for him. Thorin would get everything he desired and Bilbo …

Once again the halfling had humbled him with his commitment and his willingness to do what was right. He would need more than one lifetime to make it up to him.

 

His nephews dragged him out of his train of thought when they approached him cautiously. Again Fíli was the one who dared to ask the question that plagued them both: „Did he really propose to you?“

Thorin picked up the last of his strength when he turned around to look upon his nephews. Both looked so very young and so terribly uncertain, that he couldn‘t help but to drag them into a hug for comfort. Maybe the hobbits were right and an occasional hug really made everything better. His nephews definitely relaxed into his embrace until he confirmed: „Yes, he will be my consort.“

Kíli‘s shy voice was the next. „So we fulfilled the demands. We have succeeded, haven‘t we?“

With a deep sigh Thorin nodded his head. They had gotten what they had wanted, at least until the thain found a way to revoke his promise, something Thorin was not entirely sure that wouldn‘t happen.

The youngest dwarf‘s voice was barely above whisper when he asked: „Why does it not feel like winning but like a defeat?“

Finally, finally someone had voiced the doubt that had nearly eaten up Thorin from the inside. And only now was he able to come up with the answer. Putting his hands into his nephews’ necks, touching all of their foreheads together, he admitted: „Because the life of our people comes at the cost of one hobbit. At that seems a far too high price to be paid.“

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo had prepared cookie dough, a pastry and good dozen scones before his anger subsided a little. He was to marry a dwarf, a dwarf of all people! And why? Because an entire clan of them would starve to death if he didn‘t. Cursed grandfather, cursed king, cursed everything!

Hitting the dough again and again – this already was the third patch of cookies he was about to bake – he still couldn‘t warp his head around everything that had happened.

Leaving the kitchen to get some more butter from the pantry, his eyes fell on the crumpled letter. Fíli had left it on the table in the dining room. Picking up the cursed piece of paper once again, Bilbo toppled a little and nearly hit the floor when the meaning of the second paragraph finally sunk in.

Your son and your grandsons.

Your son and your grandsons!

Bilbo had just proposed to the future king. The future king! Kissed him rather angrily on top of it!

Groaning in desperation, he sank to the bench next to the table and stared at the words. Panic welled up inside of him and suddenly his smial felt entirely too small. Having the wits to pull the last patch of cookies out of the oven, Bilbo grabbed his pipe and his tobacco and practically flew out of his hobbit hole.

Nearly hitting the big apple-tree in his back-garden, Bilbo slid down, and crumpled into the grass beneath it. Here he was, Bilbo Baggins, of Bag End, a respectable hobbit through and through. But no matter how he looked at it, he was definitely not fit for a king.

Yet Thorin had accepted his proposal. Why?

Of course Thorin had accepted his proposal. His grandfather had left him with no other choice!

Groaning Bilbo drew up his knees and hid his face between them. How on earth should he ever live up to that?

Well first of all he should pick himself up and move his butt back into the kitchen to prepare a suitable dinner for the princes. The very princes who had lived in his home for nearly two months now.

Many scenes of the past few weeks flashed before his eyes and Bilbo whimpered slightly when it occurred to him: „I have let them do the washing up and they have done their own laundry.“ Hitting his head against the bark of the tree behind him, he stated: „Bilbo Baggins, what kind of fool are you? You are NEVER going live that down. Let‘s just wait until Lobelia finds out!“

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Hitting something soft, instead of the bark, made Bilbo open his eyes. Instantly he found himself face to face with the heir of the dwarven kingdom. Shaking his head sadly Thorin begged: „Don‘t, Bilbo … please.“

The hobbit was not able to suppress a snaky remark: „Don‘t what? Make a fool of myself, like I have done over the last six weeks? Believe me, your highness, I don‘t plan to.“ Unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice at the new form of address, Bilbo glared at Thorin and was not surprised when the dwarf suddenly glared back. The play was over after all.

„Don‘t say that. Don‘t you ever say that, Bilbo Baggins! You have been nothing but welcoming and kind and caring ever since we set foot in your smial. Don‘t you dare to sell yourself short now! Not when you have ensured the survival of an entire kingdom!“ Thorin was angry beyond compare that his hobbit could ever think so low of himself. Bilbo deserved so much better!

Annoyed at the seemingly false modesty, the hobbit shot out: „Really? So, Thráin is not your father, and the boys’ grandfather? I have not broken every convention in the book, by expecting from you to work for your living?” Bilbo took a deep breath before continuing angrily: “You are the heir of a whole damned kingdom! How much more could I have ridiculed myself when dealing with all of you?“ Bilbo knew that his Tookish side reared its head again, simply because his respectable Baggins half was shocked into stupor when he thought of all the impropriate things he had expected his guests to do.

Thorin however seemed to be unwilling to have any of that: „There will BE no kingdom without your support! If you had not agreed to fulfil the terms of the contract our kin had laid down for us, our people would starve to death!“

Snickering slightly Bilbo shot back: „Yes, a hobbit had to offer his hand in marriage, too bad for you that it was me. Maybe if you would have taken the letter with you and let it lay around in the forge conveniently, Daisy would have proposed and you would have a nice and pliant wife at your side.“

Rising to his knees now Thorin shot Bilbo an angry look and stated rather forcefully: „I would NEVER, EVER have accepted another proposal. It was you, it had always been you, right from the beginning.“

Now Bilbo staggered to his feed as well, to confront his royal guest with his conviction: „That‘s rubbish and you know it! Why on earth would you want to be bound to me? I am just a simple hobbit, not befitting for a future king!“

Glaring at Bilbo with blazing fire in his eyes, Thorin grabbed his wrist, drawing back the sleeve to reveal the silver bracelet he had given his host on their very first day. Growling at him he stated: „You know the day I gave you this. If you don‘t believe me, read the inscription!“

Looking at his arm rather confused Bilbo said: „But you said it was a blessing of the gods.“

Forcefully Thorin contradicted him: „No! I said: usually it‘s the name of the smith or a blessing of the gods. I never said that it was what I wrote for you. But I see that you are too wrapped up in your own beliefs to see clearly. If you don‘t believe me, ask them what it means,“ gesturing towards his nephews who had entered the garden at the beginning of the shouting match. Thorin left and stomped back into the house. Well at least as much as one could stomp barefoot, because no matter what had happened, the dwarf still respected the rules Bilbo had put in place in his own home.

 

Fíli and Kíli looked at each other nervously. The quarrel between Bilbo and Thorin had dragged them out of the house, just as it had drawn the attention of every immediate neighbour. After a moment Fíli forced himself to step up to their hobbit and opened his palm invitingly.

When Bilbo placed his silver bracelet in the waiting hand, the dwarf turned it around and smiled softly when he read the inscription. Showing it to his brother, who mirrored his reaction, both looked at Bilbo with so much adoration that the hobbit felt tears welling up in his eyes.

Fíli‘s voice was calm and composed, far more fitting for a member of a royal family than Bilbo had ever heard before, when he revealed: „It‘s just one word Bilbo. Uncle obviously had complete trust in you, ever since the first day. You should not give him a hard time for that. Because apart from the ban your thain had placed upon us, none of us have ever lied to you, or tried to deceive you in any way. You have to believe us. Please.“

Putting the bracelet on his wrist again after Fíli had given it back, closing his fingers around it, Bilbo demanded in a low voice: „What does the inscription say, Fíli?“

 

The young dwarrows smiled at each other, before they answered with a single voice: „Saviour.“

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess a little explanation, regarding the bracelets inscription is in order.
> 
> Please imagine Thorin's state of mind at the beginning of our story.  
> He is forced into servitude, talked down by the thain of the Shire upon his arrival.  
> Then there comes Bilbo. He is nice and friendly, supportive and kind.  
> The exact opposite of what Thorin expects him to be.
> 
> So when our king-to-be engraves the bracelet it's a hope and a plea, a prayer born of desperation.  
> Because he knows he HAS to succeed in order to save his people. And Bilbo's behaviour gives him hope.  
> Writing it down makes it a little more real to him, and gifting the bracelet to the hobbit  
> is like a "get-well"-card you give to a friend. You simply hope that what you wish for comes to pass.


	14. Act 2

* * *

# Act 2

* * *

 


	15. Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things were missing at their engagement. Thorin has set his mind to rectify this wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You see, I promised you it wouldn't be so long before my next update.
> 
> Have fun :).
> 
> Oh and tell me what you think about it! I really love to hear your thoughts and concerns and suggestions for this story.   
> I even appreciate criticism, because without it, how should I get better for you?

When the first, faint light of the morning fell into Bilbo’s bedroom, the hobbit straightened with a growl. He hadn’t had a lot of sleep last night, but he feared to fall asleep again, if he did not pull himself together and get up immediately. Because if he slept for another hour, breakfast for his guests would be a hurried affair. Then he would be angry with himself, and there were enough things to be angry or confused about, so that he really didn’t want to add to the mix.

Silently he padded into the kitchen and retrieved the kettle. Although the pipes in his kitchen would be absolutely sufficient to get it filled, Bilbo took it upon himself to get water from the well in his back garden.

Seeing the clear morning light reflected in the dewdrops decorating every blossom and petal, painting his back garden in the most glittering colours, Bilbo hesitated for a moment and inhaled the crisp air. It helped him clear his head and revived him a little. After putting the filled kettle onto the stove, Bilbo opened the kitchen window and sat down on the window-sill. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the peaceful silence of the early morning that was occasionally broken by chirping birds or chirring crickets.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Having barely slept at all, Thorin rose from his bed when he heard the back-door opening and closing twice. Aware that only Bilbo would be up and about at this early hour, the dwarf dressed and debated with himself if he should disturb the hobbit’s peaceful morning. After yesterday, especially after the incident in the garden when he had snapped at his host, Thorin was not sure if his presence would be welcome.

Conscious, that he would not be able to avoid their hobbit all day, Thorin finally made up his mind and left his room. He hesitated once again at the entrance to the kitchen. Bilbo sat on the windowsill, eyes closed, face completely relaxed. Only when Thorin shifted his weight slightly, did crease lines appear on the hobbits forehead. Ready to draw back at any indication that Bilbo was uncomfortable with his presence, the dwarf entered the kitchen and approached his host.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

“Do you have any more news for me, or did I get my fill yesterday?” Bilbo turned his head and looked up to Thorin with sleepy eyes.

Swallowing slightly Thorin shook his head and answered: “No, you know why we are here now. There is nothing else we have kept from you.”

Angling his head a little to study the dwarf, Bilbo insisted: “Are you sure? Because I would rather have it all on the table, than get the information piece by piece. I don’t know how many more bad tidings I can deal with.”

Thorin closed his eyes at that question. Never before had Bilbo felt the need to get an answer confirmed. That alone showed how insecure their hobbit was. Crouching down next to his host, so that he had to look up into the warm golden-brown eyes, Thorin nodded: “I swear to you, Bilbo, on the life of my people. There is no information I am withholding from you anymore. We don’t know everything about each other, but from now on, whenever you ask me something, I will answer as honestly and completely as I am able to. Please, believe me!”

Until he had said these words, Thorin had not even realized how very important it was for him that Bilbo believed them, believed him! The thought that Bilbo mistrusted him was close to unbearable for the dwarf, and he was relieved beyond compare, when their hobbit – after studying him for a few moments – nodded and touched their foreheads.

Bilbo’s voice was nothing more than a whisper, but his warm breath washed over Thorin most comfortingly when he said: “Alright. I believe you.”

Drawing back his head, Bilbo managed a tired smile and slid from the sill. Gesturing towards the table he offered: “Sit down. I will make you breakfast. I am sure that after a strong tea we will both feel much better,” before turning towards the stove and dragging the whistling kettle from the fire.

But instead of sitting down Thorin stepped up to Bilbo and offered: “Let me take care of the tea.”

Being aware of his guest’s status now, Bilbo let out a small laugh und shook his head rather empathically. “Now THAT would be terribly inappropriate, don’t you think, your highness?”

Moving a tiny fraction closer, Thorin closed his eyes as if the address had caused him pain, and whispered: “Only a few days ago, you told me that we behave more like family than like guests. Fíli and Kíli feel completely at ease with you, and the same goes for me. This place is the first one for all of us to feel like home ever since we lost Erebor. We have only a few weeks left before we need to return to the Blue Mountains. Please, Bilbo, don’t take that away from us.”

Bilbo could feel the heat radiating from the body behind him, now that the dwarven prince was so close. He could feel his breathing in his curls and the tension in Thorin’s stance. Turning around slowly, the hobbit beheld the dwarf, who looked at him pleading.

 

Bilbo had lost his parents, and what a terrible loss that had been. But he had kept Bag End. He still had his home and the hobbit could not even fathom the pain losing it. No matter the challenges these dwarrows had to overcome in the Blue Mountains, these were temporary quarters. To make a house or even a mountain a home, more was needed than a roof, beds and enough food. The lack of which had brought them together. So what kind of hobbit would Bilbo be, if he denied his guests this refuge?

Slowly extending his arms and dragging Thorin even closer, Bilbo whispered assuring: “No matter what has happened. No matter what will happen. Bag End will always welcome you; you as well as your nephews. Don’t worry, Thorin. As long as we are here, everything is going to be alright.”

Emotionally drained and overwhelmed by the last day and night, Thorin let go of all dignity and buried his face in Bilbo’s shoulder as soon as the hobbit drew him in. The hobbit’s words did only register on the edge of his mind, but the message got across nevertheless. How was it so easy for this tiny creature, to know exactly what they all needed? To find ways to set his nephews’ and his own mind completely at ease and achieve, in only six short weeks, what the entire kingdom had not been able to accomplish in nearly twenty years: to create a place for them where they could feel at home?

 

Sensing his friend’s distress Bilbo didn’t try to talk to him after his initial assurance. Thorin in his arms, Bilbo simply stood in his kitchen, comforting the dwarf by holding on to him really tight, and occasionally stroking his back, while the rays of the early morning light danced over the table, drawing shining designs over the commonly used wooden surface. Only when the dwarf relaxed noticeably did Bilbo open his arms again and decided: “You will take care of the tea, and I will get the cake and the fruits.”

 

Drawing the kettle back to the fire to reheat the water, Thorin closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cupboard over the stove. Bilbo had worried yesterday, that a “simple” – as the halfling had stated – hobbit was not a suitable companion for a future king. But especially after encounters like this, Thorin was not sure if HE was worthy of having someone as remarkable as Bilbo at his side. Despite that, he wanted him, wanted the hobbit to belong to him so desperately that his chest ached at the mere thought of it.

Their arrangement implied that they would spend the rest of their lives together and Thorin asked himself if one lifetime would be sufficient, to prove himself to the extraordinary person that was Bilbo Baggins. To assure Bilbo that he was valued beyond any treasure Thorin possessed or could possess in the future. At this very moment the dwarven prince doubted it, but that didn’t mean that he was not willing to try.

Feeling into his pocket, his fingertips brushed over the trinkets he had been carrying on his person for the last two weeks. He decided to ask Bilbo during their breakfast if he was amenable to receiving them. Yesterday the hobbit had proposed to him. It was high time they made their arrangement official!

 

Bilbo returned with a plate with seedcake and a few apples, when Thorin poured boiling water into the teapot. Cutting the apples and the cake, sharing both things in equal parts, Bilbo silently looked into his teacup when a thought occurred to him. In a low voice he asked: “The nightmare you had a few weeks ago, about Moria …” trailing off to give his guest the chance to stop the conversation in its tracks, if he felt uncomfortable with the upcoming question.

When Thorin only nodded and looked at Bilbo expectantly, the hobbit continued: “You said that your father was … indisposed for a while, and that you had to provide for your people. You didn’t mean just your nephews and your family, didn’t you? You meant your whole kingdom?”

Unsure of where this was supposed to go, Thorin simply nodded. But after a moment he remembered his promise to be as honest and as open towards Bilbo as possible, he tried to explain: “My grandfather was killed during that fight. A pale orc beheaded him and when my father saw that, grief fell upon him so heavily that he was unable to stand up for our people. Therefore I did. At least until my father was better again.”

 

Looking at his friend for a very long time, Bilbo tried to imagine the heavy burden Thorin had been carrying, would carry in the future, when his father left the throne in his favour. The hobbit was not sure how succession worked in the dwarrows’ kingdom; maybe Thorin would not have to worry about that for the next century, because he would only follow his father, after the king died. Maybe the king would step down from the throne, and leave the crown to Thorin. Making a mental note to research that, Bilbo looked at his friend and realized that once again tension had settled into his shoulders.

 

Well, while they were in the Shire, this simply wouldn’t do, decided Bilbo on an impulse. Therefore he stated with an innocent smile: “Well, I honestly find that hard to believe that you are fit to care for an entire kingdom.”

Thorin’s eyes flew to him, mirroring anger and hurt in equal parts at that outrageous statement, but Bilbo didn’t allow the dwarf to stop him. “After all you can’t even make a decent cucumber salad. My vegetables have suffered incomparable tortures, ever since you picked up a knife my kitchen.”

Smiling slightly at the now obvious teasing, strain draining out of him, Thorin answered in a stern voice: “Well, dwarrows are far sturdier than your cucumbers. And if these green things wouldn’t constantly try to defy me by rolling off the table, I would treat them with a lot more care!”

Grinning at his success of dragging a smile out of Thorin, Bilbo decided: “Well, maybe it would be best if I left the dwarrows for you and take care of my fragile but rebellious cucumbers myself.”

Lowering his head, enjoying a sip of the strong tea, Thorin nodded regally before stating: “Yes, I assume that would be best,” before returning his attention to his breakfast with a relaxed smile.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

After that breakfast was a quite enjoyable affair. They were sitting with a relaxing cup on the bench in the front garden, when Thorin could no longer help himself and asked in a low voice: “Do you regret what you did?”

Bilbo took a deep breath and a calming sip of tea, before putting the cup to the side and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Thinking about the question for several minutes, he felt Thorin’s observant gaze on him. The hobbit was aware of what kind of answer would set his friend’s mind at ease. But lying to him would not bode well for their life together. Therefore Bilbo opted for the truth.

Turning around so that he could take a good look at his friend’s face, the hobbit answered: “Honestly, ask me that question same time next year. Maybe I can give you a genuine answer then.”

Seeing the tension in the dwarf’s posture, although Thorin’s face was carefully schooled, Bilbo continued: “But if you ask me if I would make a different decision under the same circumstances,” the hobbit shook his head resolutely and concluded: “No, I would not. What I did was right. And I would do so time and time again.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Swallowing thickly around the lump that had formed in his throat, Thorin drew his hand out of his trouser-pocket and held it out to Bilbo. Before he opened it he explained: “In my culture, when two dwarrows share a certain interest, they begin courting. They give each other gifts; get to know each other and their respective families. When after a year or two they feel they are compatible, they think about marriage. We kind of started our relationship backwards, but I would like to ask you, if you would find it in you, to accept my first courting gift.”

Opening his hand, Thorin revealed two copper clasps, both inlaid with semi-precious stones and adorned with tiny engravings.

Looking at the hair ornaments with big eyes, Bilbo reached out for them uncertainly, looking up at Thorin if he was allowed to touch them.

The dwarf only nodded and clarified: “I made them for you. You would honour me if you would agree to wear them.”

Picking up the first clasp, Bilbo turned it in his hand. There was a highly polished round, green stone on one side, fruits that looked like grapes, and a tiny, sparkling flame. The last element was a runic sign, a little more complex than the ones in his bracelet.

Angling the picture of it towards Thorin, Bilbo asked: “What does this mean?”

Thorin smiled and admitted: “That’s my blood-line’s name: >Durin<.”

Laughing at the presumed story that was written on the clasp, Bilbo stated: “That could be my door, all round and green, and the grapes are for food and the fire is for cooking. This looks like your line has made itself at home in my hobbit hole.”

Bilbo was surprised when Thorin admitted in a low voice: “Yes, that’s exactly what it’s meant to say. I finished this the second week after our arrival. But I never picked up the courage to give it to you.”

Completely taken aback by that admission, cheeks flaming, Bilbo took up the second clasp. There was the same symbol, but this time it was mirrored by two identical, intertwined symbols on the other side of the clap. Both looked a little like the big letter “R”, and the letters were framed on either side by an engraving that looked like a crown and a symbol that copied the ring Thorin was constantly wearing.

Thorin took the second clasp from the hobbit and explained the carvings: “This one stands for >Durin< just like on the other. This is the letter >B< in Khuzdul, repeated twice, so it’s a short form of your name. These are the symbols for royalty and the future king. You will be my consort after all, when I follow my father on the throne.”

 

The dwarven prince was a little taken aback when the hobbit suddenly looked at him with big eyes, and started to hyperventilate slightly. Helplessly Thorin brushed over Bilbo’s back, while the smaller male buried his head between his knees. Obviously the thought of being Thorin’s consort did not sit very well with Bilbo Baggins. But having overwhelmed the hobbit enough during the last day, the prince chose not to delve into this matter.

 

Only when Bilbo came up again, taking another sip of his tea, did Thorin allow himself to ask tentatively: “So, would you allow me to braid your hair?”

Obviously confused by the seemingly sudden change of subject, Bilbo jumped at the opportunity to avoid talking about the whole kings and consorts business and nodded enthusiastically. Dashing into the smial, he left Thorin sitting on the bench with a rather confused look.

But when he returned only a moment later with a well-known comb, Thorin smiled and took it from Bilbo. Sitting in front of the dwarf on the soft grass, Bilbo closed his eyes when his friend started to drag the comb through his curls. The hobbit was not sure if braids would suit him, but he would respect his fiancé’s culture. If that meant wearing braids, so be it.

Feeling Thorin’s gentle fingers on his forehead, Bilbo worried a little that his hair would not be long enough for braiding. But when the dwarf didn’t mention anything, the hobbit relaxed, leaning against his legs, and waited for the dwarf to finish his new hair decoration.

When the first clasp was secured behind his right ear, and Thorin started the second braid right above his left ear, tailing to the back slightly, Bilbo asked mischievously: “So, with your family name all over me, these clasps are like promise rings. So that everybody can see I am taken?” Not daring to turn around, so as not to make the braiding more difficult, Bilbo could hear Thorin only giving an affirmative hum.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The truth was, although Thorin would have loved to explain the gravity of wearing someone else’s clasps in his hair, the dwarf didn’t trust his voice at the moment. His emotions threatened to suffocate him. So he concentrated with all his might at the task at hand, to keep his fingers from shaking, as he was publicly weaving his claim into his hobbit’s hair.

Thorin wanted to drag the hobbit closer, wished to bury his face in the golden locks, surrounding himself with the clean and earthy scent of this precious creature. But he was afraid that Bilbo didn’t share his desires, and the last thing he wanted was to push the hobbit away by overwhelming him with his affection.

So when he had finished his task, Thorin drew back instead of leaning in, and allowed Bilbo to inspect his work.

Shaking his head slightly when rising from the floor, the hobbit stated good-naturedly: “Cleaning and cooking will be much easier, now that my hair doesn’t get in the way. I wonder why I didn’t think of this earlier.”

Turning around he looked into Thorin’s eyes with a warm smile and gave a small bow: “Thank you, Thorin. These are really beautiful.”

For a flickering moment, his friend’s eyes were so full of desire and longing that Bilbo had to take a deep breath. But then the moment passed and Thorin forced a polite smile on his face while nodding, “You are welcome.”

 

Regarding how their coming together had been, and how these clasps kind of stood for a promise ring, Bilbo knew that a kiss would be appropriate now. But after his rather forceful approach yesterday, the hobbit was not sure whether another display of passion was welcome. When he stepped up to Thorin, between legs that seemingly parted for him on their own account, Bilbo touched his fiancé’s face tenderly.

Gently brushing over Thorin’s cheeks, Bilbo leaned into the dwarf and whispered in a low voice: “If this is an engagement-present, don’t you think we should kiss?”

 

Unable to believe his own ears, but unwilling to let this moment slip away; Thorin enclosed Bilbo’s hips with his hands and drew the hobbit closer. He tilted his head up towards Bilbo who now towered over him. Still not trusting his voice, he licked over his lips nervously, before nodding in assent.

When Bilbo’s lips finally descended onto his own, Thorin’s fingers buried themselves in his counterparts west, holding onto his hobbit for dear life. When Bilbo deepened their kiss, the dwarf yielded once again. The velvety lips and the soft tongue explored his willing mouth expertly, coaxed noises from him that would have been embarrassing in any other situation. But with Bilbo in his arms Thorin willingly gave up all pretence of dignity and composure, only to feel these intoxicating caresses as long as possible.

 

Bilbo himself was completely overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the smell and the taste, and the feeling of Thorin under him fingertips and lips. As soon as the dwarf has opened his mouth for him, the hobbit nearly climbed on his lap, to intensify the contact. By all the dwarrows’ gods, this was brilliant! Bilbo had every intention of dragging this dwarf into his bedroom, stripping him of his clothes and kissing every inch of him. But being aware that this would not only be highly inappropriate but maybe even unwelcome, he forced himself to content himself with simply kissing Thorin and buried his desires.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin and Bilbo enjoyed each other thoroughly until they could hear a muffled “YES!” and hands clapping.

Drawing away rather reluctantly, Bilbo fixed his narrowing eyes onto the crack in the door, where two pairs of eyes could be seen. Growling slightly the hobbit stated: “Children who spy on grown-ups don’t get fresh scones for breakfast. The same goes for nosy dwarrows. When I come in, I expect the table to be neatly set for second breakfast. Otherwise I will be very cross with the two of you.”

When he heard muffled protests from behind the door, Bilbo asked in a rather authoritarian voice: “Did I make myself clear?” Without as much as taking his hands away from Thorin’s face, a gesture that somewhat spoiled the impression of a stern adult.

Nonetheless the message seemed to have sunken in, because he could hear two voices confirming: “Yes, Mister Boggins,” before the door closed audibly.

 

Smiling down at Thorin who too seemed to be as reluctant as Bilbo to let go, the hobbit said with a smile: “It seems it’s time for second breakfast.”

“Yes, seems like it.” Thorin’s voice was hoarse. His eyes were fixed on the hobbit in front of him. Fingers gently brushing over Bilbo’s lips, coaxing another kiss out of him, he whispered: “Thank you.”

Drawing back Thorin’s hand and sharing one last proper kiss, Bilbo leaned against his dwarf for a heartbeat and said with the most brilliant grin: “You are very welcome.”

He drew back and disappeared into the smial to prevent two rascal boys from raiding his pantry before having eaten a proper breakfast.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	16. Now What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reach for help - because hobbit's do these things, open and honest!  
> And an attempt for an open conversation, a rather successful one by the way.

All through breakfast, huge grins were plastered on Fíli and Kíli’s face as soon as they spotted Bilbo’s braids. Throwing meaningful looks at Thorin, who pointedly ignored them, they giggled all through the first meal.

In the end Thorin excused himself with an exasperated sigh. For a moment Bilbo wanted to ask the dwarf why he was going to the forge, but when his nephews followed, the hobbit couldn’t help but feel really proud of his dwarrows. They had come here to prove a point. They had achieved what they had been coming for, yet they still opted for helping the hobbits who needed them, instead of staying at home.

Humming to himself rather joyously, Bilbo cleaned the table, did the washing up and prepared lunch for his grandfather. When everything was set, Bilbo retreated to his study and reached for several pieces of parchment. He needed to feed a mountain of dwarrows during the winter. So what would they need?

After staring at the blank sheet for several minutes, the hobbit realized that he knew far too little about the inhabitants of the Blue Mountains to even make a guess about their needs. Assuming that dwarrows were not that different from hobbits, Bilbo started with a list of what he would need to buy for himself, if he needed to provide for several months. After estimating about 500 inhabitants living in the dwarven kingdom, the hobbit realized that his approximations were far too high. Assuming that dwarrows could be satisfied with half as many meals as hobbits, he cut down the numbers, but still reached an overwhelming amount of corn, fruits and vegetables he had to get to the Blue Mountains.

Starring at his calculations he realized that he needed help. He needed to know how many dwarrows lived there. What they had for themselves. Providing for them was a monumental task, far too big for a single hobbit. He needed answers. Being aware of only one contact in the Blue Mountains, Bilbo started a formal letter:

 

>   
>  Dear Thráin, son of Thrór,  
>  King of the Blue Mountains,
> 
> My name is Bilbo Baggins and I will be your liaison regarding the provisions for your people.
> 
> Assuming that you are tending the land around your Mountains, I need to know how extensive the expected harvest will be this autumn. Also, how many people you have under your care.
> 
> We hobbits of the Shire will provide for you and your people, come winter. I myself would like to travel back with your son and grandsons to get an impression of how we could support you best.
> 
> I hope that this is agreeable to you.
> 
> My best wishes to you and your family.
> 
> Bilbo Baggins  
>  Master of Bag End

 

It took Bilbo more than an hour and several tries to get this letter done. There were so many things he wanted to know; so many details he wanted to include in his first message for his fiancé’s father. But in the end he thought it best to talk about more private matters eye to eye, and simply concentrated on the direst matter at hand, and that was the imminent survival of the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains.

A knock on the door drew him out of his musings and he was not surprised to find his grandfather on his doorstep.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

“Bilbo, how nice to … see you.” The Old Took faltered in his greeting when he spotted the dwarven beads in Bilbo’s hair.

Pretending ignorance, Bilbo just opened the door wide, plastered a smile on his face and bade his grandfather to come in.

When the food was in the oven and the hobbits had made a nice cup of tea for each of them, Bilbo looked upon the older hobbit expectantly. They would have to discuss what had happened yesterday. Yet – upon seeing his grandfather in his own smial – Bilbo was not willing to lend him a helping hand. He had forced the arrangement between Thorin and Bilbo upon them, so he should also do the explaining.

Finally Gerontius drew a deep breath and stated: “Bilbo, I am really sorry for what happened yesterday. But you really you really should consider before you commit to your decision. You don’t have to …”

Bilbo raised his hand to stop his grandfather in his tracks. His voice was stern and earnest when he asked: “Did you offer King Thráin a chance to redeem his dwarrows, by sending his family to help us over the summer?”

Exhaling slightly, the Old Took nodded and answered: “Yes, though I asked for a member of his clan, not his immediate family. I would have never thought he would send his own blood.”

Nodding in understanding, Bilbo continued his inquisition: “Did you or did you not set up the condition of at least one of them willing to obey and serve, for them to receive our help?”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Bilbo’s grandfather nodded for a second time. When he once again looked upon his grandson, who had obviously informed himself quite well regarding the arrangements with the dwarven-king, he had to admit defeat. A given word was sacred and a contract – no matter how ruthless – had to be honoured. Therefore there was only one answer: “Yes, I did.”

Confirming his own suspicions, Bilbo simply shrugged his shoulders and replied to the thains initial suggestion: “So you see, no, there is really no way around it for me. I offered Thorin my hand, he accepted. You offered the king our support, and he will accept as soon as he gets the message. I have written a letter already. Do you want me to include anything on your behalf?”

Bilbo was well aware that he was a little mean, brushing his grandfather off like that. But his relative had started it all, and he deserved to be at least a little remorseful for a while.

After sitting and sipping their tea in silence, the elder hobbit asked: “If you hadn’t found out and I would have asked of your impression of your guests today, how would you have answered me?”

 

Realizing that this was the perfect opportunity to deepen his grandfather’s sense of guilt, Bilbo considered painting his guests unruly and rude. But thinking about the boys’ pain yesterday, their suffering and fear when they realized that he knew, as well as their overjoyed behaviour in the morning, Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to tell his grandfather anything but the truth. Especially when he brushed over his beads and traced his lips with his fingertips for a moment, remembering the kiss he and Thorin had shared.

Looking at his grandfather with soft eyes, the hobbit explained: “Fíli and Kíli are very young, merely tweens in our eyes, and they have a lot of mischief on their mind. They hid my flour in mama’s vase and turned all my shirts inside out, after I had put them on the washing line. But they also learned to change the diapers on Falco’s fauntlings on their very first day. They help him with his work, dash to the market, deliver his goods. They work for him at least eight hours every day and don’t care about extra hours when he needs them. They are good boys and I am proud of them.

As for Thorin …” touching his beads once again, Bilbo continued: “He takes every order he is given very seriously, be it knives, spades and shovels or rakes. He even worked for old Mother Clove free of charge, when her last kitchen knife broke. He threw in a new pot for her on top of the knife, and she bakes him at least two pastries per week ever since he delivered the goods to her. He is respectful and polite, supportive and selfless when someone is in need of his help. He will make a fine husband, I am sure of it.”

 

Accepting the praise without prejudice, in the end his grandfather allowed himself one last question in a nearly inaudible voice: “I don’t doubt your judgement, Bilbo, but there is one last, very important question that remains if you want to marry him: do you love him?”

Flinching a little, Bilbo took a conscious effort to put back the cup to the saucer, without revealing his shaking hands. Staring into the empty fireplace for a few moments, he finally admitted defeat by shaking his head. “I like him, grandfather. He is a good dwarf, but no, I don’t love him.”

Reaching for his grandson’s hand, the Gerontius took it between his own worn hands and kissed it lovingly. “I am so sorry, Bilbo, that I brought this upon you. It was never my intention to make you unhappy.”

Looking at his grandfather with a forced smile, Bilbo drew back his hand, only to hug the older man fiercely. “I know, grandfather. This all got out of control. If all of us had been honest to begin with, none of this would have been necessary. But things being as they are, we have to get through this, as a family. We have survived worse.”

“Yes, we have, son. And no matter what happens in these mountains, you will always have a home here. We will always be there for you.” Being thain of the Shire went a long way with most hobbits. But being Bilbo’s grandfather made Gerontius willing to go even one step further. No matter what Bilbo needed, he would provide it for him.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Having the hard feelings off the table, lunch turned out to be a quite pleasant matter, and Bilbo’s grandfather stayed way into the afternoon, entertained by stories of how living with three dwarrows brought numerous adventures to Bag End, and how much Belladonna would have loved them all.

Gerontius was just setting the table for tea when he heard the main door open. Looking around the corner, a tray with a teapot and two cups in his hand, he found a certain dwarven-prince in the entrance hall, taking off his shoes. Smiling about the positive influence his grandson seemed to have on his dwarrows, the Old Took simply called cheerfully: “Good afternoon.”

Without looking up from the clasp on his boots, Thorin answered: “Good afternoon, I know I am early but you weren’t there at lunch, so I worked through the hour and I …” Only when he realized that the thain of the Shire stood inside the living room, did the dwarf stop himself mid-sentence. A little hesitant about what to do, he lowered his eyes respectfully and admitted: “I am sorry, Master Took. I had forgotten that you were to come here today. I finished early but … if it’s inconvenient I can leave again.”

Remembering the glares the Old Took had thrown him yesterday, Thorin was unsure if his presence here was welcome or even a good idea. He had hoped for some time with Bilbo alone, especially after this morning. But he had no desire to be glared at through the whole afternoon.

When he turned towards his boots reluctantly, Bilbo approached him from behind. His voice was pleasantly surprised when he observed: “Thorin, you are early.”

Just as Thorin opened his mouth to repeat his explanation, Bilbo’s grandfather beat him to that, explaining on his behalf: “Obviously our smith has worked very hard to return early today. I assume you two would like to have some time for yourselves. I think your grandmother will be expecting me by now anyway, so I will take my leave.”

“But, you didn’t even have afternoon-tea,” Bilbo protested, but was calmed by his grandfather’s warm embrace, as the older hobbit revealed: “No, but I have got what I came for.”

Turning towards Thorin, offering him his hand, the Old Took stated: “Nice to see you again, Thorin Oakenshield. I hope your remaining time in the Shire will be more pleasant than the first few weeks.”

Completely taken aback by the warm gesture, Thorin shook the thain’s hand, thanking him a little confused. “Have a nice afternoon, Master Took, and thank you for your kind words.”

 

After bidding his grandfather farewell, Bilbo left Thorin and Gerontius in the hallway, but couldn’t help himself – he peeked around the corner to observe their encounter. When Thorin closed the door behind his grandfather, the hobbit dashed towards the kitchen to set the table.

Thorin seemed more than a little confused when he entered the kitchen, commenting hesitantly: “The thain was uncharacteristically friendly today.” Realizing that he was talking about Bilbo’s grandfather, Thorin hasted to add: “Not that he was rude before, he … just … well …”

Smiling a little, watching Thorin trying to wiggle himself out of his verbal faux pas, Bilbo took pity in the dwarf after a few moments and admitted pleasantly: “Well, he came over with a few questions. I answered them honestly and he revised his opinion of you.”

Pulling the warm apple-pie out of the oven, placing it on the table, Bilbo felt obliged to add: “You see, that’s how problem-solving usually works between people. One reaches out for help. People talk about it, openly and honestly and then they solve the problem together.

“Had your father told my grandfather about the true danger four your kingdom, grandfather would have helped without any strings attached. He is angry, but he is not cruel. He knows better than anyone how much it hurts to lose someone. He wouldn’t have subjected someone else to the same fate. Not if he could have helped it.”

 

Thorin just stood there, shoulders sagged, eyes on the ground. There had been so much hurt and fear and heart ache for him and his nephews over the last two months. They could have spared themselves all of that, if not for his father’s stupid pride. On the other hand, would he himself have acted so much differently?

After the Fell Winter the hobbits had been cold, some downright hostile towards the dwarrows who had come here to trade. Would he have opened himself up to mockery and scorn if he had not known these people? Only now was Thorin aware how much these hobbits had suffered through Thráin’s refusal to help, all those years ago. So he couldn’t really begrudge them their hostility. Just like he couldn’t really hold his father’s pride against him. Stubbornness and pride were two traits most dwarrows shared. But only after his time here did Thorin realize that these feelings came at a very high price, and not only for themselves.

 

“Thorin.” Only when a small hand cupped his cheek, did Thorin realize that Bilbo had tried to talk to him. Looking upon his hobbit with an apologetic smile, the dwarf made a conscious effort to listen to the soft words that were spoken to him: “I am sorry that I was cross with you. It was not your fault after all. Now sit down and serve the tea, I will get the whipped cream from the cellar so we can enjoy our apple-tart.”

After mourning the loss of Bilbo’s warm hand for a heartbeat, Thorin stepped to the table and poured two cups of tea. Reaching for the sugar on the sideboard, he put two spoonfuls into Bilbo’s cup and added a dash of milk. Admitting that he really enjoyed the sweet pastries and cakes and baked goods the Shire had to offer, more often than not did Thorin feel overwhelmed by the amount of sugar he consumed here. At least drinks, the dwarf had decided, shouldn’t be sweet, they should be strong or hearty or aromatic, but for now he refrained from lacing any of them with extra sugar.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

“I tried to write to your father today.”

Thorin nearly spilled his tea, at Bilbo’s admission and shot the hobbit a worried look. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I need to know. How many people are living in your mountain? How extensive will your harvest be this autumn? What goods you have in stock? We hobbits have neither the means nor the experience for such a mission.”

Thinking about it for a moment, Thorin judged his father to not be the best contact person in that matter. So he suggested: “Bilbo, if your letter is solely about the state of our provisions, I would suggest Balin, son of Fundin, as a suitable correspondent. He is my father’s advisor and knows almost everything that happens in our kingdom.”

Confused about the implication, Bilbo asked: “What else would I write about? Feeding your people was the task at hand, wasn’t it?” Eyeing Thorin with suspicion, wondering whether something else would come up, the hobbit felt relieved when the dwarven prince shook his head rather vehemently.

“No, of course not, I just thought you might have wanted to mention my … well … our engagement to my father.” Thorin looked at his cup hesitant. He didn’t want to interfere with Bilbo’s plans. If the hobbit chose to reveal their engagement now, he would go with it. But Thráin might not take this message well, even though he had been aware of this being their primary goal.

Honestly, Thorin couldn’t even remotely fathom how his father would react to this – his first heir being engaged to a hobbit? Would he be relieved, or angry? Had he even expected them to come that far? Maybe, for the king, losing one family member to servitude would be preferable to having a hobbit as a potential consort for his son. Had there even ever been a difference between these two choices?

 

Thorin still wasn’t sure about the details of his and Bilbo’s arrangement. They were engaged, but did that negate the duty to “serve and obey” for the time being? For now, the dwarven prince was unwilling to take any risks. Working at the forge was self-evident. The hobbits of the Shire needed a smith. But here, at Bag End, how much authority could Bilbo still wield over him? Thorin was not willing to risk their agreement, so he deemed it better to do too much rather than too little in their temporary home.

Not that Bilbo had ever asked anything of them, on the contrary. At the beginning their hobbit had seemed personally offended at every task the dwarrows had taken upon themselves. When he told them to do something, it was less of an order and more of a polite request, and he never asked for anything without good reason.

Regarding their future together and his position as heir of the throne, Thorin didn’t know where he and Bilbo would go from here. Sure, Bilbo was obviously more than willing to help his people. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he planned to accompany Thorin to stay in the Blue Mountains at the end of the summer. The dwarven prince was more than aware that he had to remain at his husband’s side in the long run. If Bilbo decided to stay in the Shire, there was really nothing that Thorin could do about it. Maybe he could persuade Bilbo to come with him. But the hobbit was doing so much for his people already. The dwarf felt reluctant to drag Bilbo out of his home, not after losing his own. If the hobbit was amenable to living in the Blue Mountains, so much the better. But if he wished to remain in the Shire, Thorin would stay at his side, no matter the costs.

 

“I have written a letter, I can re-address it. Would you like to read it?” Bilbo’s voice was kind and open, so Thorin forced himself out of his musings and accompanied his hobbit to the study. Being the only room in the house the hobbit had asked his guests to leave alone, Thorin felt like he was entering a very private place, and he was a little proud that Bilbo had allowed it. Brushing over the backsides of the books reverently, he spotted several where Bilbo’s name was written on the back.

“Did you write these?” That anybody he knew could write a whole book, several in fact, was impressive for Thorin. He liked to listen to Bilbo reading to them. He had been forced to learn his history when he was a dwarfling. Encouraged to familiarize himself with the rules and traditions of his people, Thorin had spent hours and hours in the libraries of Erebor. But never before had he met anyone who actually WROTE books, who revelled in the written word so much, that even listening to him was both relaxing and entertaining at the same time. Looking at Bilbo with newfound respect, he followed the hobbit when he was gestured to his writing desk.

Looking at the letter Bilbo had planned to write to his father, Thorin was impressed by the respectable, but to-the-point conversation the hobbit was setting up. Smiling slightly, thinking of how much Balin would like the Master of Bag End, Thorin nodded and stated: “I still suggest you choose Balin as your correspondent. If you wish, you could address the letter and I will find a raven to get it to the Blue Mountains immediately.”

Fascinated by the concept of raven-post (Bilbo sent his own letters always per merchant or rider), the hobbit did as Thorin suggested. He made a clean copy with a different recipient, closed and sealed it and offered it to Thorin.

Smiling and with a very good feeling of being finally on the right track, Bilbo returned to the kitchen to clean up, and once this was done, strolled to his garden to enjoy a relaxing pipe before Fíli and Kíli would return and turn his day upside down once again.

 

Little did the hobbit know what he had brought upon himself with that innocent plea for information.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	17. A Marriage in the Shire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbits will go a long way of making a marriage enjoyable. This times our favorite dwarrows are expected to help.
> 
> AND a little introduction into the language of flowers.

Thorin returned with Fíli and Kíli right before supper. They were chattering constantly about this weekend’s wedding and how excited Amanda was, because she was one of the bridesmaids.

While Kíli continued to drown Thorin in information about flowers, decoration arrangements and the importance of the position of a bridesmaid – because Amanda had enlightened him thoroughly on this subject while the young dwarf had been helping her, repairing her kitchen-table – Fíli went in search for Bilbo.

As expected, he found their hobbit in the kitchen, pulling a vegetable stew out of the oven. Looking down his nose at such a paltry supper, Fíli earned a little slap on the elbow for that, and a brief lecture about how greens were important for a healthy hobbit, or dwarf for that matter, before the dwarf remembered why he had come to the kitchen in the first place.

 

“Can we go to the wedding on Saturday?” Fíli was delighted at the prospect, not only because he expected an awesome party, but because the Chubb-Bagginses had asked him and Kíli to take care of the fauntlings. “Please, Bilbo. We will be good, I promise! No pranks at all. Amanda wanted us to babysit, but she said we have to talk to you first. In case you have other plans.”

Laughing at the purposefully innocent and pleading expression on Fíli’s face, something that really didn’t suit the young dwarf at all, Bilbo put on a little show. He started by cleaning his hands, arranging the food on the counter, all the while seemingly thinking hard about the request. When Kíli entered the kitchen, he only made eye-contact with his brother and mirrored Fíli’s puppy-eye image, looking at Bilbo with big eyes.

When Bilbo still took his time, the boys became a little crestfallen and earnest in their pleading looks, but the hobbit could only hold his charade for so long. As soon as Thorin entered and took in the picture with a confused look, Bilbo couldn’t help himself but laugh out loud. “Of course we will go. Why do you think I ordered new shirts for you?”

“You ordered new shirts for us?” Now it was Fíli and Kíli’s turn to look confused.

 

Bilbo smacked his head and looked at Thorin. “In all the confusion I have completely forgotten about those. I asked you yesterday morning to pick up a parcel from the tailor. Did you get it?”

Trying to remember past yesterday’s fallout, the eldest dwarf nodded and turned around to get the paper-wrapped parcel he had absent-mindedly placed on a cupboard, as soon as he had spotted the letter in Bilbo’s hand. Guiding his dwarrows into the dining room, Bilbo ripped open the paper and revealed four new linen shirts.

Spreading them out on the table he picked up a creamy-white one and put it to the side.

After that he offered a light-blue shirt, with a blazing white moon-flower stitched over the heart, to Kíli. The young dwarf rubbed his fingers on his trousers to clean them, before accepting it from Bilbo.

Picking up a light-brown one, with the most delicate yellow sun-flower on it, he held it out to Fíli who took it with awe.

That left the last, midnight-blue shirt for Thorin. Over the heart was embroidered the most delicious white rose with silver lining.

Tracing the detailed stitches with his fingers, Thorin looked at Bilbo questioningly. The hobbit picked up the shirt, held it over Thorin’s broad frame to see if it would fit and explained with a smile: “White roses stand for friendship. You have proven yourself a friend to a lot of hobbits over the last few weeks, so the tailor’s wife embroidered this one for free.”

 

With a “We will try it on!” Fíli and Kíli dashed towards their room. Only to have Bilbo shouting after them that they would most definitely take baths before they would even think about putting these new shirts on.

Thorin watched Bilbo with a strange look in his eyes. When the hobbit put away the wrapping and took his time to inspect his own shirt, which had small, lilac flowers over the heart, Thorin asked in a low voice: “You had them made just for us, and even had them embroidered. Why?”

Smiling at his friend Bilbo shrugged and said: “There is no occasion more joyful than a wedding. Well apart from a naming ceremony for a fauntling. It’s common to buy new clothes to honour the couple. As for the stitches … well I guess that you would have deemed an anvil and a hammer more suitable but … well to be honest, flowers are very important for us hobbits. You can say so many things with flowers. And therefore we love to use them as decoration. Without any embroideries the shirts would be just plain and not very festive. Don’t you think?”

Considering this information, Thorin creased his forehead and asked: “But aren’t there any jackets with decoration to go with them?” He thought about his festive robes. And just plain trousers and shirts seemed a little … well … plain.

Laughing Bilbo informed him: “Yes, there are waistcoats to go over them, but when you drink and dance and play games and make merry, we lose the coats very fast. You will see, Thorin. Hobbit parties are joyful events. And who knows, you might even like it.” The little hobbit winked at his friend and left for his own room, to stash away his own new top.

 

Allowing himself a slightly disturbed smile, Thorin took his shirt and brought it to his room. It seemed like it would fit him perfectly. For a short moment he asked himself how Bilbo had been able to get his measurements so exact, but then he remembered that all of his clothes were stored here. Taking their measures would be easy for his host.

Still, this shirt was of good quality. And four of them could not have come cheap. Maybe he should offer Bilbo to pay for them.  
Maybe that would be an insult.  
Maybe he should make something else for Bilbo at the forge, as a thank-you for the hobbit’s thoughtfulness.

Nodding to himself, Thorin decided to find an appropriate gift for Bilbo, to show him how very much his concern and care was valued. Satisfied with his decision, he spread out the shirt on the big armchair that dominated his room, and traced the delicate petals of the white rose.

White roses meant friendship, even he knew that. A warm feeling spread in Thorin’s chest when he thought about all the hobbits that obviously liked his presence in the Shire. They had been reserved and on guard during his first week, but now they came to him easily.

His friendly demeanour and his helpful support had obviously been well noticed. It was strange for Thorin to be liked because of the simple tasks he performed. At home nobody even said a word about the monumental responsibilities he had to take upon himself as an heir to the throne. In the Shire he was nothing but a smith and even though it was much simpler work than ruling a kingdom, Thorin had to admit that he truly enjoyed it.

Remaining at Bilbo’s side in the Shire, if the hobbit decided to live here, would be no hardship for Thorin. Not in this regard – although he would dearly miss his family and friends. He couldn’t imagine a life without his people, though he knew that it was not up to him to make this decision. The deal between the thain and his king was an “in for a lifetime” arrangement. But he was glad that he had been able to make friends here already.

Smiling at the white rose one last time, Thorin turned around to freshen up, before returning to the kitchen to help with supper.

Little did he know that – while Bilbo had told him the truth about the embroidery being free of charge – his hobbit himself had chosen this particular flower for Thorin’s shirt.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Saturday could not come soon enough. But before the actual wedding, for the very first time in their lives the dwarrows experienced the usually so tranquil and agreeable hobbits in a state of uproar.

Two days in advance of the wedding the meadow under the Party Tree was raked and the first tables were set up. During the day Bilbo’s house was nearly constantly overflowing with hobbits of all shapes and sizes.

They used his kitchen for baking, his pantry and cellar for storage and every available surface in the house as a packing place for flower arrangements.

 

When Thorin and his nephews came back from work on Thursday evening, they had to resist the impulse to check whether they were in the wrong smial.

But a shouted: “Shoes off!” from their host assured them that this beehive of activity was indeed Bag End. Instantly they were recruited to knead cookie dough, wind up flower-wreaths and polish bronze plates and kettles.

 

On Friday none of them went to work and from the first rays of sunshine, the day was a blazing whirlwind of activities and tasks that were thrown at them.

When – around afternoon tea – Bilbo spotted his house guests with desperate looks on their faces, nearly drowning in requests from different hobbits, he absolved them from their respective duties and started to walk his smial and the next two, as well as the meadow under the Party Tree, with his dwarrows in tow.

Picking up each and every child within reach – many of whom were terribly excited and dancing around their parents distractingly – they returned to Bilbo’s back-garden. After serving tea and cookies, every dwarf sat with two children in his lap and at least three more snuggled up against their sides, comfortably in the warm grass.

Smiling at the worried looks of Thorin and Fíli and Kíli – surely these rascal children would be up and about in a minute – Bilbo produced a big, leather-bound book and started with a warm voice:

>Chapter 1: Concerning Hobbits - This book is largely concerned with Hobbits, and from its pages a reader may discover much of their character and a little of their history. … <

Winding a tale about the most unlikely travelling party, an evil wizard, marvellous elves and great magic, Bilbo could entrance not only his young listeners but his dwarrows as well. The sun was beginning to colour the sky orange and purple when the children were picked up one by one by their parents, all of whom thanked Bilbo profoundly for taking care of them.

 

After the last child had been picked up, very few hobbits remained to finish their tasks. But the inhabitants of Bag End were able to prepare their dinner in the relative peace of a kitchen that was only occasionally entered by a hobbit who checked on a gigantic piece of ham in Bilbo’s stove, or a nice little lady who seasoned a stew that cooked in Bilbo’s wide fireplace.

Helping themselves to roasted meat, freshly baked bread, newly churned butter and fresh cheese, along with several vegetables Bilbo insisted they needed so they could grow big and strong, they retreated to the back-garden once again. Having had a really noisy day – who would have thought that such small people could cause that much uproar – they all sat in companionable silence and enjoyed their dinner.

 

After having lit their pipes, Fíli stated in an exhausted tone: “If this continues till the wedding, I am not sure I will see the rising of the moon tomorrow. Hobbits are tremendously excited when it comes to their parties.”

Laughing Bilbo assured him: “Don’t you worry, Fíli. The majority has been done today. Bag End only hosts the preparations, because it is located close to the Party Tree. Tomorrow before lunch we will have the smial back to ourselves. When do you and Kíli need to go?”

“Amanda asked if she could come here at around two, she needs you to …,” smacking his own head Kíli looked at Bilbo apologetically. “I have completely forgotten to ask you about that! Amanda needs you to do her hair. She will be so angry with me for forgetting to tell you!”

Turning to his brother with a tremendously worried look, Kíli drew his legs to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and hid his face there.

Instantly Fíli was upon him, enclosing him with his strong arms, rubbing his back soothingly.

Kíli mumbled distressed: “She asked only this one thing, and I had completely forgotten. She will be so mad when she finds out, and I bet I will not be allowed to babysit the little one.” Helplessly the older brother looked at Bilbo and his uncle who watched the scene with concerned eyes.

 

Thorin looked at Bilbo pleadingly – why was he always looking at Bilbo when there was trouble? As if the hobbit could really solve all of their problems, even Kíli forgetting to tell him something – the eldest dwarf felt downcast on behalf of his nephew. Therefore he was a little worried when Bilbo just snickered and shook his head.

Carefully placing his pipe on the table, Bilbo kneeled down next to Kíli. Winking at Fíli, who instantly loosened his arms, Bilbo gently took Kíli’s chin in his hands and forced the sad boy to look at him.

Gesturing towards a lonely patch of bright pink flowers that had escaped the raids of the last two days Bilbo asked: “Do you know why I haven’t allowed anyone to take my Limerock rubies?”

Sniffling slightly Kíli shook his head.

Bilbo gently brushed away a strand of dark hair and whispered to the youngest dwarrows secretively: “Because they go really lovely with cousin Amanda’s brown hair.”

Looking into Kíli’s unbelieving eyes, Bilbo couldn’t help himself but laugh again, gently rubbing the dwarf’s back. “Kíli, I ALWAYS braid Amanda’s hair when there is a party. She only asked you to remind me of it. But this tradition started when she married my cousin almost five years ago. I would never forget something like that.”

Hugging Bilbo with all his might, Kíli toppled the little hobbit, and soon Bilbo felt himself buried between two dwarven bodies who laughed and rolled around in the dark garden, completely at ease again, because another apparent crisis had been averted.

When a little while later Bilbo suggested that they should go to bed so that they would be fresh and well rested tomorrow, no one protested. The brothers almost instantly retreated to their room and Thorin joined Bilbo in the kitchen, shortly after having checked on all the doors and windows in the smial to make sure everything was secure.

 

Standing in the doorway, watching their hobbit checking on the ham and the stew, Thorin asked: “Were you telling the truth, about Miss Chubb-Baggins always coming to you for her hair?”

Puzzled by the question, Bilbo turned around from seasoning the stew one last time and inquired: “Why should I have lied about such a trivial matter?”

Smiling at his hobbit, Thorin explained: “Because you kind of have a habit of wanting to set the boys at ease, and making up for their mistakes.”

Laughing lightly, Bilbo put away the big spoon he had used on the stew, and turned around stepping up to Thorin. “Well, first of all, they are only boys. They need someone to look after them. And second of all,” poking Thorin in the chest once, twice and a third time, Bilbo stated in a stern voice: “If you ever suggest I am telling anything but the truth, Master Oakenshield, I will be very cross with you!”

Swallowing slightly at the strict tone of Bilbo’s voice, Thorin hesitantly reached for the hobbits hand that had just poked him– with an astounding amount of force the dwarf had to admit – and tenderly rubbed over the wrist with his thumb, before placing an apologetic kiss on the soft skin.

His voice was hushed and nearly inaudible when he said: “My apologies, Master Baggins,” before retreating for the night.

Cautiously touching the skin on his wrist that seemed to be inflamed by the dwarf’s affectionate kiss, Bilbo couldn’t keep a smile from lightening up his face, before he left the kitchen. Finally in his bed he wrapped his fingers around his wrist and fell into a deep and restful slumber.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Saturday started very much like Friday. The smial was overrun by hobbits once again.

But instead of bringing stuff, plates, vases, flower arrangements, and especially food, were taken out of Bag End and carried to the Party Tree.

When around noon every last guest was gone, Bilbo prepared a light meal for his dwarrows and looked at their tired faces. The boys had made the trip up to the meadow at least twenty times each. Therefore the hobbit suggested a little nap for Fíli and Kíli – and he really meant nap, thank you very much – before starting to cut bright red flowers from his back garden, carefully arranging them in a wide bowl of water, to keep them fresh.

 

He had already taken a bath and was on his way of putting on some light clothes when the doorbell chimed.

Luckily Thorin was out there, inviting his cousin Falco, along with his wife Amanda and their little babies in.

The fauntlings were fast asleep and after checking on Fíli and Kíli, who lay splayed out on their bed, shirts, trousers and all, Bilbo beckoned Amanda closer and together they placed the babies’ inbetween the young dwarrows’ bodies.

When they felt the loss of their mother, the fauntlings made little distressed noises, waking up a slightly, but when his cousin’s wife tried to take them up again, Bilbo just held her back and gestured towards the dwarrows. Without a conscious thought, Fíli and Kíli rolled to their sides, reaching for each other over the fauntlings, caging them effectively in the cradles of their bodies. Almost instantly the babies weaved their fingers through strands of dwarven hair that was within reach and resumed their restful slumber.

The hobbits looked at each other, love lighting up their eyes when they looked at “their” children.

Thorin and Falco were already deeply engaged in a conversation about the advantages of one metal above another, when combined with certain sorts of wood. So Bilbo dragged the lady-hobbit out to the porch after serving her a cup of tea.

Sitting on the bench, Amanda chatted nervously about the upcoming party. Bilbo, on the other hand, calmingly groomed her hair and started to plait strand after strand, decorating the dark brown locks with flowers, to form a beautiful crown on the top of her head.

Having not very long hair at his disposal, Bilbo just circled his cousin’s head once, before picking up the remaining flowers, arranging them to hide loose ends and rebellious locks that wouldn’t fit. After he splashed a little salted water on top of everything to stick it together, Amanda hugged Bilbo in delight, before showing off to Thorin and Falco.

 

Falco had already prepared a semolina pudding for his babies when their cries sounded from Fíli and Kíli’s room. But instantly they were stilled, so being relieved from her motherly duties, Amanda dashed off to help the bride.

Not a minute later, all four young ones, sleepy and slightly crumpled, surfaced from the dwarrows’ room.

Obviously Fíli and Kíli had enjoyed waking up to baby cries, because they smiled brilliantly at Bilbo and their uncle, cradling the fauntlings protectively.

But the babies started to tear up again, as soon as they smelled the pudding. Bilbo and Falco instantly reached for them and Thorin pushed his nephews towards the bathroom to freshen up, wash their hair and redo their braids.

 

When Fíli and Kíli entered the kitchen again, with freshly braided hair and their new shirts over light trousers, the fauntlings were already fed. After covering the dwarrows’ shoulders with a few flannels, Falco and Bilbo handed them over. Tailing after his babies, Falco bade Bilbo and Thorin good-bye and left the smial with them.

As soon as the door had closed, Thorin and Bilbo simultaneously let out an exhausted but relieved sigh. Jumping at the opportunity, Thorin stepped up to the hobbit and tentatively reached for Bilbo’s braids.

“Will you allow me to redo them?” The dwarf’s voice was deep and made Bilbo shiver slightly. So he just nodded and took the comb he had used on Amanda out of his pocket, offering it to Thorin.

Expecting Thorin to sit down, to find a place on the floor in front of him, Bilbo was a little surprised when the dwarf guided him towards his favourite place on the kitchen’s windowsill. Relaxing against the wooden frame, Bilbo looked out of the window, while Thorin brushed his hair and redid his braids. As soon as he was finished, Bilbo looked up at Thorin who beamed down at him with pride and joy.

Prepared to leave the kitchen to change for the wedding, Thorin hesitated when Bilbo held him back. “Change into your festive clothing and then come out to the back please. It’s my turn now.”

 

Thorin felt his chest constrict at that statement and could only nod before leaving for his room. There was no chance that Bilbo wanted to do his braids simply for the sake of taming his hair. The hobbit knew about the courting rituals of the dwarrows now. So the dwarven prince allowed himself to feel a little excited at the prospect of his fiancé braiding his hair for the first time.

When he entered the back-garden only a few minutes later – having taken a bath and washed his hair earlier that day – he looked at the garden-table in awe. Tiny little white-petalled flowers lay on display in a shallow basin and Bilbo was looking at him expectantly.

Bilbo had asked Hamfast Gamgee for a patch of his prized dog roses. These small flowers stood for pleasure as well as for pain, and Bilbo was sure that while his entire family would latch onto the more joyful meaning of the blossoms, he knew that both meanings stood true when it came to his and Thorin’s relationship.

 

Having studied Thorin’s braids extensively, it was not hard for Bilbo to reproduce their position as well as the braiding technique that was used to create them. While he had been extensive in his use of flowers with Amanda, he had chosen only the twelve of most beautiful blossoms for Thorin.

Twelve roses spoke of belonging to the person who had given them and while every last hobbit in the Shire would get that message, Thorin would remain blessedly oblivious. So Bilbo wouldn’t have to explain the jealous streak he felt when he thought about other hobbits flirting with his fiancé.

Because while Bilbo would love to see Thorin indulge in the festivities, he couldn’t vouch for his actions when another hobbit tried to steal his dwarf away from him, not even for an innocent kiss. Therefore he had made his claim on Thorin as public as possible and as discreet as necessary, so as to not embarrass his fiancé. Because Bilbo was quite sure that the dwarven prince would not enjoy being publicly claimed by him.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the meaning of the flowers, as well as the "hidden" messages their numbers send from this page:  
> > http://www.theflowerexpert.com/content/aboutflowers/flowermeanings/rose-flower-meanings 


	18. Public Claiming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First it's about the bridal pair, then it's about Thorin and Bilbo.  
> We will face once more an angry hobbit, an insecure dwarf and a helpful hobbit. Exactly in that order but not necessarily who you would expect.
> 
> Was that weird? I think I had too much alcohol yesterday evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a free day. And my beta-reader had outdone herself. So here, for each and every one of you, a new chapter!

Thorin had been completely taken aback by the hair decoration Bilbo had chosen for him. Because while he had found Amanda Chubb-Baggins to be lovely, he had feared a little that he would look like an exploding rose-bush as soon as the hobbits started to throw flower-crowns and -chains at him, as seemed to be expected at such a celebration.

But Bilbo’s decision left nothing to be desired. When he looked at his reflection in the big mirror in the entrance hall, Thorin could not help but feel a little vain. The dark-blue shirt hung on his wide shoulders perfectly, and the blossoms in his hair mirrored the stitching that sat over his heart.

Their arrival at the party not an hour later was greeted with great joy and happiness. Bilbo hooked his arm into Thorin’s and introduced every last visitor to the dwarf. And while – in his position as smith – the dwarf had got to know many of the guests, he had remained oblivious to the fact that about half the Shire seemed to be related to Bilbo.

Hobbits, while dying significantly earlier than dwarrows, seemed to be infinitely more fertile, and there was no pair under fifty that didn’t have at least two kids to account for.

 

The wedding ceremony started right after tea and carried on for a good hour. During that time the pair was blessed by their parents, the Old Took, and several other important inhabitants of Hobbiton. Everyone who gave his blessing spoke of happiness and joy, fertility and success in all of the bridal pair’s endeavours.

There was laughter and teasing and lots of hugs and kisses, though Thorin thought the hobbits still seemed a little distant towards him, because even after all this time no one tried to overwhelm him such affections. Even their joyous kisses were chaste and rarely accompanied by an engulfing hug.

Bilbo, on the other hand, was overjoyed by how well his fiancé was accepted by his family. And while several had known about their engagement, news always travelled fast in the Shire after all, nobody had been able to inspect the two of them up close until now -- at least no one except his grandfather.

When the ceremony was over and everybody was congratulating the newlyweds, the bride, Rose Underhill, made a very flattering comment about the dwarf at Bilbo’s side. Flushing red up to his ears, Bilbo introduced Thorin to her properly and then dashed off to get some ale.

When he returned to his dwarf, he felt giddy and a little tipsy from drowning half a mug in one go. But he didn’t let that stop him from dragging his friend towards the big buffet. After satisfying their stomachs with the delicious food – part of which had been prepared at Bag End – they found a place to sit under a wide birch that overshadowed a part of the meadow.

 

“You are really related to nearly everybody here, aren’t you?” Thorin asked good-naturedly. The hobbit’s giddiness and delight had inevitably sprung over to him, and he found that he really enjoyed himself, despite these unfamiliar surroundings.

 

 

Bilbo laughed and just shrugged his shoulders, admitting: “We hobbits are a fertile bunch. We have to make up for our much shorter lifespan by overwhelming Middle-earth with our sheer number.”

“But you never leave the Shire if you can help it.” Thorin was curious now.

Giggling when he became aware that what he had said hadn’t really made any sense at all, Bilbo suggested: “We do travel, it’s just not common. In fact, my mother and I travelled a lot when I was young. But, well … maybe we can extend the Shire … towards the Blue Mountains for example.” He got up with a wink, heading towards the buffet once again.

Smiling after the hobbit who had left to get them new drinks, Thorin admitted to himself that he would really, really like the thought of his hobbit’s and his own home so close together. That way neither of them would have to leave his family for them to live together.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The afternoon dragged on– in the best hobbit tradition – with eating and singing and dancing. Being exhausted from several fast dances, Thorin and Bilbo went to look for Fíli and Kíli to relieve them from their babysitting duties, so that the dwarrows could join the merry-making.

But they only laughed and let the young dwarrows be when they spotted them in the middle of a whole bunch of children, circling with the babies in their arms, while several other fauntlings clung onto their shirts and trousers to be dragged along.

Thorin noted, a little worried, that Fíli had already a long tear in his shirt. It was used by a young hobbit-lad to latch onto the dwarf. He looked at Bilbo, concerned that the hobbit would be angry at his nephew ruining his present so soon.

But after following Thorin’s gaze, Bilbo simply laughed and asked: “Why do you think do we traditionally get new dress-shirts for each party?” With these words, he joined the circle of fauntlings, lifting some off the ground and twirling them around.

 

When the sun had set and most of the children had been taken home, Fíli and Kíli joined their uncle and hobbit with a hearty ale and fell onto the bench exhausted.

“Did you know that hobbit weddings are not viewed as successful if there are no babies within the first year? I heard Miss Proudfoot telling that to Mister Underhill.” Kíli’s voice was eager and shook with excitement.

Bilbo laughed and shook his head. Reaching for Fíli’s hands, when the young dwarf probed the slash in his shirt, worrying, he explained to Kíli: “That is a VERY antiquated view of marriage. True children within the first year are a blessing, but most couples nowadays take their time to enjoy being together and building their life, before they start thinking about babies.”

 

When there was some turmoil around the newlyweds, Fíli craned his neck and asked excited: “Will they start the public claiming now?” looking at his uncle and Bilbo inquisitively.

The question however seemed to confuse their hobbit and Bilbo himself looked at Thorin while asking: “What’s a public claiming? They have already kissed in front of everybody after their vows.”

Shaking his head the oldest dwarf explained: “No, Fíli meant the part where the pair consummates their marriage. To make the vows binding.”

For a moment Bilbo looked completely dumbfounded, before bursting out laughing so hard that he nearly tumbled backwards from the bench.

While the dwarrows looked at each other in utter bewilderment, he gasped for air and asked with tears of mirth in his eyes: “You are joking, right? No respectable hobbit would EVER do that in front of an audience. Oh my goodness gracious, imagine that!” Shaking his head laughing, it took Bilbo some time to realize, that his friends didn’t join him in his chuckling.

 

Sobering in a heartbeat, the hobbit looked at Fíli and Kíli who had at least the decency to lower their gazes. But when he turned to Thorin, the dwarf stated in a matter-of-fact voice: “The public claiming is part of our tradition. It keeps marriage swindlers to a minimum, and reduces the risk of two dwarrows courting simply for monetary gain. Though peasants may be claimed in a more private surrounding, usually at least one of our clerks and the king or his immediate advisor, as well as representatives of both families are present.”

 

Narrowing his eyes – party, drinking and merry-making completely vanished from his mind in favour of his own upcoming wedding – Bilbo rose from his seat and placed himself in front of his fiancé. His voice was calm and very, very composed when he declared: “I am a respectable hobbit, and I would NEVER do such a thing!”

Completely missing the point, Thorin looked up at the angry hobbit and shook his head in confusion: “But our marriage won’t be valid without it.”

Pinching Thorin just like yesterday in the kitchen, only this time with considerably more force, Bilbo hissed angrily: “If you think for one second that I will show myself with you under such circumstances in public, you are sorely mistaken,” before storming off and vanishing into a crowd of laughing hobbits.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

 “Oh boy …”

Looking at his uncle apologetically, Fíli rose from the bench to follow Bilbo, but Thorin held him back. “Don’t Fíli, there is no use.”

“But we …” when Kíli intervened, supporting his brother’s attempts to follow their hobbit, Thorin rose himself, gently smiling at the boys. “Bilbo is no dwarf. The necessity of our tradition eludes him because … look around, Fíli, Kíli, does this look as if hobbits need to think about marriage under any other aspect than love.”

Sighing slightly, the future king continued: “He is straining himself as it is. We shouldn’t make it any harder on him. We will find a way around this.” With a reassuring nod towards his nephews, he left the table, tailing after his husband-to-be.

 

With a groan Fíli sank down and hit his head against the table repentantly. Only Kíli’s hand that forcefully dragged him up stopped the self-mutilation. “You couldn’t have known that hobbits didn’t pursue such a tradition,” his younger brother stated.

“I know, but now Bilbo is angry at uncle and it is entirely my fault!” Fíli looked after Thorin and Bilbo regretfully, chewing on his lower lip, before allowing Kíli to drag him into a comforting hug.

 

Too many things were viewed too differently by hobbits and dwarrows. And although they all tried to make their arrangement work, insurmountable problems seemed to present themselves around every corner.

While the two boys held onto each other, discussing how to calm Bilbo down, maybe even make him understand the dwarrows’ traditions, the fact that the Old Took had witnessed the entire scene eluded them completely.

 

Never had Gerontius Took thought that the three dwarrows would take a hobbit’s anger that much to heart. He had to admit to himself that he really had to change his view of them, no matter what had happened two years ago.

After witnessing this encounter, it was much easier for his grandfather now to take Bilbo’s words seriously. These dwarrows really did care about Bilbo’s feelings a great deal, and not only because of the arrangement he and their king had forced on them. The seemed genuinely worried that Bilbo was hurt.

He felt a lot easier now when the thought of his grandson marrying into this family. Deciding that a little support from his side was in order, he rose from his seat and went to look for Thorin. Bilbo needed to blow off steam before he was ready to listen to reason. It was a Tookish trait, Gerontius knew only too well.

But Thorin …  
In contradiction to his reassuring words for his nephews, the dwarf had looked terribly hurt and crestfallen after Bilbo’s statement. Therefore Gerontius decided that the oldest dwarf looked like he needed a friendly word of advice now.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin had looked far and wide for Bilbo. He had been forced to engage in a polite conversation by hobbits that approached him from all sides, but had tried to make haste, to find his hobbit.

But being a hobbit between hobbits, Bilbo eluded him. Sinking on a lonely bench at the edge of the meadow, Thorin hid his face in his hands with a groan.

No matter what he had said to his nephews, he had absolutely no idea how to make Bilbo understand the importance of their wedding traditions, or how to get around this. The public claiming was an ingrained part of their culture. Especially as a member of the royal family, there really was no way for him to circumvent it.

But worse than Bilbo’s turning down their customs, had been the repulsed look on his face when he had talked about showing himself at Thorin’s side in public.

Thorin was very much aware that he wasn’t a hobbit and might not be considered pleasant or even attractive by their standards. He was too tall, too broad, maybe to muscular and far too hairy in several places, while too bare in others.

Yet Bilbo’s reaction to him, the tender touches and the kiss, had made him hope that the hobbit appreciated his looks somehow. Obviously that assumption had been wrong. That thought was what hurt Thorin the most at the moment, because there were very few people in his life that approached or even touched him. Bilbo’s unconcerned affections had been slightly addictive to the dwarven prince; the possibility of losing them pained him greatly.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

He closed his eyes and fought down the pain in his chest, until he felt the bench bend slightly when someone else sat down beside him. The aromatic smell of Old Toby weaved over to the dwarf and made him think about lovely evenings in front of the fireplace of Bag End and joyful afternoons in the garden.

He prepared himself for a polite retreat to spare himself the painful memories, when he heard the Old Took’s voice: “You know what the worst and equally the best trait of a Took is?”

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Thorin straightened himself slightly before answering: “No, I don’t. Sorry to disappoint you, Master Took.”

 

It was obvious, wasn’t it? That Thorin really didn’t have a clue! And now the Old Took had come to rub it in. Any progress the two of them might have made through Bilbo’s positive judgement was surely ruined now by his ignorance.

Blowing a smoke-ring into the air, the hobbit stated: “A Took is easily angered, ready to explode when he is annoyed. Not even the respectable Baggins side of his father can change that about Bilbo. He truly was an irritating child, very much like myself, I have to admit.”

Completely confused by that revelation, because that knowledge didn’t help Thorin in the slightest, he couldn’t understand how he should react. So the dwarf simply looked at the thain and waited for a further explanation.

Seeing a composed and self-possessed dwarf, his grandfather decided that this was exactly what Bilbo needed when his Tookish side reared its head.

Though, what was of no use to Bilbo, was a dwarf who couldn’t see how very much he was needed in such a situation.

Thorin had to go after Bilbo to calm him down. Who knew what his grandson would do otherwise? Therefore an encouragement was in order.

“The good thing about this trait is that we only need a little time before we are able to calm down again. After that – if I might say so – we can be quite reasonable.” With a slightly apologetic smile, the elderly hobbit continued.

“But I am well aware that that is not an experience you have had with my part of the family during our infrequent encounters.” The Old Took allowed himself a smile and another lungful of tobacco, before looking at Thorin expectantly.

 

But instead of looking for his fiancé, the dwarf simply starred at the ground, strangely defeated.

In a low voice Thorin admitted: “I had every intention of going after him, but I lost him in the crowd. And after all, with him being ashamed of being seen with me, there is really nothing I can say or do. He stated his opinion in that matter very clearly.”

Looking at his future grandson-in-law the Old Took thought about the conversation he had overheard, and after a few moments, he realized where Thorin’s belief came from. The urge to smack Thorin over the head because of his insecurity and misinterpretation grew by the minute, but being – at least partially – responsible for it, Bilbo’s grandfather refrained from doing so.

Hobbits, though affectionate in the open, were very private when it came to intimacy. Dwarrows however, seemed to have a very different opinion in that matter. Being as it may, Gerontius would leave it to Bilbo to explain the intimacy, but set himself upon the task of rectifying Bilbo’s view of Thorin.

 

“Well, for being ashamed of being seen with you, he stated his claim on you rather publicly,” he mumbled while taking another long drag from his pipe.

Ignoring Thorins confused look, the Old Took leaned back against the tree they sat under. Conversationally he asked: “We hobbits are very affectionate, especially if there is a party going on. Did you not wonder why no lad or lass dragged you away from the public areas? Why no one tried to flirt with you?”

 

Ultimately lost in the conversation, Thorin latched solely onto the last question.

Bilbo’s refusal to complete a wedding ceremony.  
His obvious shame of being seen with Thorin in public.  
The thain’s comment about public claims.  
And him not being invited to a private conversation during a party.  
Nothing of this made any sense to the dwarf, especially not in regard of Bilbo brushing him off rather rudely and storming away.

Setting all his confusion aside, he went for the most obvious answer to Master Took’s last question regarding his treatment by the other hobbits. “I am a dwarf. Why should anybody be interested?”

 

Laughing at the sheer ignorance of this comment, the Old Took stated: “Because you are a rather handsome dwarf! Your nephews had several offers by at least a dozen other guests; they just choose to ignore them because they seem to be content with each other. You on the other hand …”

Reaching out to touch the delicate petals of the flowers that were woven into Thorin’s hair, Gerontius was not surprised when the dwarf drew back to keep him from reaching them. Ignoring the gesture, he asked lightly: “These are beautiful flowers, deliberately planted to enhance your braids. Do you know what they are called and how many Bilbo used?”

 

Thorin just shook his head, once again confused by the sudden change of subject.

“Are you aware that flowers are very important for hobbits? And that they have meanings we use, to send unspoken messages to each other?” The Old Took’s eyes lay now appraisingly on the dwarf at his side.

For once, Thorin knew the answer to that question and offered it readily: “Yes, Bilbo told me,” brushing over his shirt where the white rose sat directly over his heart he continued: “White roses mean friendship. That’s why this was chosen for me. Because I did right by your people and they view me as a friend.”

 

Nodding, encouraged by this basic knowledge, the thain took it upon himself to educate Thorin further. “Yes, exactly. And then there are flowers like dog roses for example. They stand for heart-wrenching pain but also for joyous pleasure. Additionally, the number of the flowers is important too. One single pink or red rose can symbolize “I love you”. While fifty red ones say “I am yours forever”.

“How many flowers are there in your hair, Thorin?”

Looking at his braids, because now not only the choice of flowers suddenly made sense to him, but the number as well, Thorin guessed: “About ten? I don’t know, I didn’t count them when Bilbo braided my hair.”

 

Smiling at his future grandson-in-law, Gerontius said: “Well, I dare say Bilbo did. He would have counted them very carefully. There are a dozen blossoms in your hair. And twelve roses send a very clear message to those around the recipient of the gift.”

Gazing at the thain expectantly, Thorin didn’t hesitate to ask: “What do a dozen roses mean?”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo had reached Thorin and his grandfather in the middle of their conversation. He had approached them from behind, because he had stormed off the meadow in an attempt to cool himself down, and returned in a wide arc.

He used Thorin’s question, to step out of the shadows of the tree, where he had hidden from view.

Looking at his grandfather with tremendous gratitude – he had not even thought for a single second that Thorin could take his words for Bilbo being ashamed of him – and wordlessly reached for Thorin’s hand. When the dwarf offered it, the hobbit drew him up from the bench and made his way towards the centre of the meadow.

Stepping around party guests, friends and family alike, the hobbit showed his dwarf to the middle of the dance-area, where almost everybody, had an unimpaired look at the pair.

Looking up at his confused fiancé, Bilbo wordlessly dragged him down by his dark curls and kissed him tenderly, for the whole Shire to see.

 

Thorin reeled a little under the unexpected contact, but quickly caught himself and closed his arms around Bilbo, dragging the hobbit closer. The soft lips, the gentle kiss, the considerate motion of Bilbo’s lips against his own, made Thorin forget everything for a heartbeat. Pulling Bilbo even closer against his body, so that the feet of his little hobbit nearly left the ground, all he wished for was that they could remain like this forever. Bilbo plastered against his strong form, arms wrapped around the smaller body, unable to let him go.

 

Laughter, clapping and wolf-whistles brought them back to reality, and when his hobbit finally opened his arms, he had clutched around Thorins neck to hold onto him, he touched their foreheads and whispered: “Twelve roses mean that I want you to be mine and mine alone, and that no one is to touch you.”

Looking up with shining eyes, Bilbo clarified: “I could never be ashamed of you, Thorin. But this,” gesturing around the both of them. “Is as far as my claiming goes. I will not let you take me in public, I am sorry.”

 

Clenching his fingers into Bilbo’s shirt so that he didn’t need to let him go, Thorin nodded slightly and begged: “Can we at least talk about this. I need you to understand. Please, Bilbo.”

Aware of the amused faces all around them, Bilbo nodded and left the dancing area arm in arm with Thorin.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When he returned to their table – the dwarf had offered to get them drinks, strong drinks while he was at it – Bilbo was instantly encountered by to tremendously worried looking dwarrows.

As soon as he stepped up to them, Fíli was upon him, taking his hand, beseeching him: “Bilbo, please don’t be angry at uncle. It was not his fault. I should not have said or implied anything. Please, I am so sorry. Don’t be mad at him.”

Stilling the distressed boy with his hands gently caressing the dwarf’s face, Bilbo touched their foreheads, because he had guessed by now that for dwarrows this was the equivalent of an affectionate kiss between hobbits, and said in a calm voice: “It’s alright, Fíli. Hearing about the different traditions was a shock for me. And while I keep my opinion on the matter of public claiming, I should not have been so rude about it. I am sorry that you were worried. But Thorin and I will figure this out.”

Drawing back, reaching for Kíli’s hand, he placed it into his brother’s and ordered: “No off you go. This is a marriage, the most joyous occasion. Go, have fun. Drink and laugh and dance and let Thorin and me sort this out.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When Thorin returned with a jug of strong wine and two glasses, he and Bilbo sat down beside each other silently. They watched the merrymaking and after a while they talked about their cultures, their different traditions and the reasons why they were so important to them. Both realized that they had to find a common ground for their arrangement to work.

The morning was already colouring the sky in the faintest blue, when they finally left their table and started their way back to Bag End. They had not sorted out anything, nor made any decisions, but they understood each other a little better now.

 

Thorin brought Bilbo to the doorstep of his room. Feeling encouraged by their talk, he dared to steal a chaste kiss from the hobbit, before he whispering tentatively: “You know, nobody said that it has to be me who does the claiming …”

Leaving behind a stunned hobbit, the future heir of the kingdom of dwarrows of the Blue Mountains retreated to his room.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I included another amazing picture into this story, with the permission of arrogantcatdoux of course. The original portrait can be found here, as well as the bindrune for the second part of the story. Please look at it, the pictures are amazing, and I don't say that solely because they are for my story :).
> 
> http://arrogantcatdoux.tumblr.com/post/67932898630/for-anchanees-story


	19. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all dreams are pleasant.  
> Not all nights are bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am genuinely happy that some of you found me on tumblr. I'm really excited to get in touch with the community of fangirls and I would be glad to take every suggestion you will send me (here or in "private" on tumblr) into consideration.

That morning Bilbo had the strangest dream.

He found himself in the middle of the most wonderful cavern. The dark walls were laced with gold and copper veins and at regular intervals the most amazing jewels were embedded in the stone. Everything shimmered and glittered, reflected the light of thousands of candles that Bilbo knew were there, but could not see.

He stood on some kind of elevated platform, facing an army of dwarrows. All clad in thick, sturdy, but wonderfully rich embroidered robes and jackets. Looking down upon himself, he found that he was wearing very much the same thing. Long trousers, a rich, warm shirt under a heavy overcoat that was framed with dark fur. Everything shone and shimmered in the artificial light. He felt completely comfortable and at ease in these strange surroundings, warm, homey and welcome.

Looking around, he realized that the source of this feeling was Thorin who was standing at his side, holding his hand, but now stepped around him. The future king was clad like Bilbo, but slowly and steadily – with a very seductive smile – he first took off the coat and then unlaced the shirt he wore under it.

No one was making a sound. The cavern felt like a vast church, where everybody was watching the pair so reverently that they had forgotten to breathe.

Swallowing heavily, Bilbo stood transfixed by his husband’s semi-naked form. Unable to pull away, the hobbit stepped up to a majestic Thorin who smiled down at him invitingly. Reaching for him, the dwarf put the hobbit’s hands on his chest and exhaled contently under the caress.

Lowering his face to his hobbit, Thorin offered no resistance when Bilbo teased his lips with the tip of his tongue as soon as they were within reach. Ready and willingly the dwarf allowed him entrance when Bilbo rose to his tiptoes to intensify the contact, deepening their kiss. Thorin slowly retreated towards an altar that had remained unnoticed until this moment, for leverage, and allowed his new husband to trap him between his small body and the highly polished stone.

Reaching for the clasps of his leather trousers, Thorin whispered seductively into his hobbit’s ear: “Just this once, my love. Take me for the entire world to see and our wedding is binding.”

 

Intoxicated by the warmth of Thorin’s body, his smell, his lips, his soft breath ghosting over the skin of his ears, Bilbo swayed slightly. When rough fingertips started to trail over his neck, reached his shoulders to push away the heavy overcoat, the hobbit didn’t even think twice about it and let the cloth hit the floor.

Snuggling against the strong form in front of him, that seemed more than content to be pushed against the altar. Bilbo tilted his head, offering his throat. He felt Thorin’s hands traveling his body, dragging him even closer. Soft lips and a tickling beard caressed the sensitive skin of Bilbo’s neck and slowly but steadily he felt his desire climbing.

He wanted Thorin. By everything that was sacred, how much he wanted the dwarf in front of him. Hissing slightly, bending back – relying on the strong arms of his husband to catch him – he offered more of himself, his throat, his neckline, his chest for Thorin’s tender administrations.

 

The dwarven prince seemed to be more than willing to take his time worshipping the small body he embraced. Leisurely, warm hands wormed their way under the rich shirt Bilbo was wearing. Fingertips caressed the soft skin most lovingly and when the hobbit finally snapped under the onslaught of sensation, dragging Thorin closer by his hair to demand another kiss from him, his husband didn’t put up any resistance.

There was no shame in the act. No afterthoughts, no second guesses … Bilbo was burning with desire, and he didn’t hesitate to help Thorin with his breeches, opening them to be able to reach for his hot erection, as soon as they had ended their kiss.

 

There was whispering behind him, snickering and even laughter. Shaking his head empathically to chase away the distracting noises, Bilbo depended their kiss once more. Just like in the Shire, he coaxed the most delicate sounds from Thorin and he revelled in them. Desiring to hear them again and again, Bilbo let his tongue reach deeper while his fingertips brushed over the seam of his husband’s trousers; gradually dragging them lower and lower, to reveal his partner’s adorable form.

 

But instead of ebbing away, the noises only increased in volume, the longer the hobbit caressed the dwarf in front of him. When Bilbo finally turned around to tell off those who dared to disturb them, he found himself facing a huge crowd of hobbits.

 

His grandfather stood at the very front, his arms folded over his chest, shaking his head in disappointment. Snickers, laughter and very unflattering remarks reached Bilbo’s ear. When he turned back towards his husband, he found Thorin, gloriously naked, standing in front of a stone altar.

Panicking Bilbo stepped back to him, nested his back against Thorins front, shielding the dwarf’s naked body, from the piercing eyes of the other hobbits. He felt a powerful tremble go through Thorins form, as soon as he had plastered himself to Bilbo’s backside, to get as much shielding from the penetrating view’s as possible.

Looking around on to find their discarded cloaks, to save at least the last of Thorin’s dignity, Bilbo became aware that they were now in the middle of the great meadow under the Party Tree. The cavern and the dwarrows were gone, as where their garments.

Looking at his fellow Shirelings for help, Bilbo noticed his grandfather stepping up to him, holding out a dark blue shirt with a white rose on it. Desperately reaching out for the piece of clothing, but unable to retrieve it from the Old Took, he was forced to listen to the scolding his grandfather gave him:

“Is this how you take care of your husband? Your parents would be ashamed and you know it! Nobody cares why you married him, but we all expect you to act like a respectable hobbit. You are Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, and your husband deserves better than to be presented like a prized pumpkin, for the entire world to see!”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Shooting up from his bed, Bilbo was covered in cold sweat. It took him a few moments to catch his breath and still his racing heart. When he made his way to the door, he was still swaying slightly. He needed a stiff drink to chase away this nightmare before he could even think about returning to his bed. But when he passed by Thorin’s room, he couldn’t keep himself from opening the door and checking on his fiancé. His dream had left him anxious for his dwarf’s wellbeing and he knew he wouldn’t be able to calm down until he had assured himself that Thorin lay in his bed, sleeping safe and sound.

 

As soon as he had heard the door open, Thorin woke up and turned towards the intruder. His words were a little sleepy, but laced with concern when he asked: “Bilbo? What’s wrong? Do you need something?”

Smiling with relief, when he realized that these pictures really had been nothing but figments of his own imagination, the hobbit assured his guest calmly: “No, everything is okay. Go back to sleep,” before he closed the door again.

 

He poured himself a drink before he left the smial, to sit on his bench in the pale morning light. Bilbo hissed when he drowned half of his liquor in one go. But he relaxed noticeably after the alcohol was burning pleasantly in his stomach. Exhaling in forced calm, he leaned back against the wooden bench and tried to close his eyes. That however turned out to be a very bad idea, so he instantly opened them again, when pictures of the wide meadow with snickering hobbits, resurfaced in his mind.

Fidgeting with the glass, looking at the birds, the bees, the flowers and the empty roads on this morning after the wedding, Bilbo tried everything to occupy his mind. How distracted he was could be seen when he jumped slightly as Thorin sat down beside him and wrapped a familiar blanket around the both of them.

 

Allowing Bilbo to get used to his presence for a little while, Thorin finally picked up the courage to ask: “Do you want to talk about it?”

The dwarven prince had spent far too many nights avoiding his bed, fleeing from his own nightmares, to not be familiar with the haunted look in one’s eyes when unwanted pictures arose during sleep. And Bilbo, his cheerful, friendly, nearly always good-spirited little hobbit, had clearly had this look upon him, when he had checked on him a few moments ago.

Thorin desperately desired to help Bilbo to chase his nightmares away. But in the end it was the hobbit’s decision if he wanted to talk about them, and he was not surprised when he heard after a little while: “No, don’t worry about it. It was nothing.”

 

With Bilbo it was always nothing. As if his feelings were not worth being considered. Thorin wished so very much that he had a way with words like his father’s advisor Balin, or that he could be as empathic as his long lost mother. But he possessed none of these admirable traits, so all he could do was wrap the blanket tighter around the both of them, and offer Bilbo the little comfort he had to give.

He was surprised when – not half an hour after later – a small form descended into his lap, snoring slightly. Smiling tenderly, Thorin carefully took the glass from Bilbo and lifted him into his arms.

Gently, so as not to disturb the hobbit in his well-deserved sleep, the dwarf carried him back to the master bedroom.

Having a little difficulty in freeing the both of them from their quilt, Thorin struggled finally sat down on the bed. He was on his way of extracting himself from the big blanket, when he felt a small hand, reaching for his chest. Anxious if he had disturbed Bilbo’s sleep he froze, only to find his hobbit with closed eyes and a relaxing smile, snuggled against his taller form.

 

He should get up. Thorin knew that he should push Bilbo away gently, draw back from the warm quilt and leave the room and his host to a restful sleep. But the hobbit had intertwined his fingers with the strings of Thorin’s sleeping-shirt, and so the dwarf leaned back a little, intending to get up as soon as Bilbo turned around and let go of him.

He did not plan to get comfortable on his host’s plush bed. He had no intention whatsoever to wrap the both of them tighter into the blanket, to keep them warm through the early morning breeze that came through the open window. He could never allow his eyes to close, and lay his head to rest on the soft cushions, letting himself be lulled to sleep by his fiancé’s even breaths.

He wouldn’t do any of that, because that would be so very wrong. It would mean that he was taking advantage of Bilbo in a situation where the hobbit had no chance of withstanding him. No matter how much he wished for them, he had no right, not now, maybe not ever, and Thorin knew that very well.

He did them anyway and was fast asleep within a few heartbeats, wrapped up in a cocoon of warmth, his precious hobbit in his arms.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When Bilbo awoke a few hours later, he felt a tiny ray of sunshine warming his nose. Judging by his grumbling stomach, it had to be past lunchtime. But he felt too warm and far too content to get up. Snuggling into his blankets, he scratched his pointy ear, because something was tickling him. Soon he realized that there was soft hair behind it. Hair that neither grew on his head, nor had any right to be anywhere near his ear.

Turning around slightly, he became aware that he was wrapped in his “outdoor” blanket, with a tall dwarf huddled around his smaller frame. Bilbo knew that he should rise now. That he should wake up Thorin and that they should have a very serious talk about appropriate sleeping arrangements.

Not that Bilbo was not thankful that Thorin had returned him to his bed a few hours ago, he really was. But sleeping together was … well … not right for them at this early stage of their relationship. Or this late stage? They were engaged after all. Hitting his cushion with his head to clear the said head, he couldn’t really come to a decision in that regard. He just knew that sleeping in the same bed as Thorin somehow seemed … improper. At least for now.

 

But then he remembered the soft and cosy feeling he had had upon waking. And that the last time he had felt so safe, warm and comfortable, had been during his family’s travels to the elves of Rivendell. A place his mother had liked to visit every five years. They had learned to make their way unnoticed and unconcerned by the dangers of the road. And during the cold nights, they all had snuggled together, Bungo and Belladonna nestling their boy between their warm bodies, to keep him safe.

Waking up this morning had brought these memories back to him, and Bilbo realized that he could never scold Thorin for that. Not when he had enjoyed it this much. Deciding that it was easiest not to mention this at all, Bilbo extracted himself carefully from the dwarf’s arms, and offered one of his cushions as a replacement. Instantly the dwarf latched onto it and Bilbo couldn’t help but smile at that picture. Gently he tugged a lock of Thorin’s dark hair out of his face, so that it would not wake him.

Tiptoeing out of the room, deciding that clothes from one of his guest-rooms would do, the hobbit dressed before entering his kitchen. Yawning slightly, he prepared the kettle for tea and entered his pantry to find something to prepare for lunch. While Thorin had looked perfectly content in his bed, Bilbo very much doubted that Fíli and Kíli would sleep the day away. So he better had something prepared for them.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

A light vegetable soup was simmering on the stove when Fíli entered the kitchen. Tiredly he slumped down on the bench and soon after that his head hit the table. Looking for Kíli because one brother rarely went anywhere without the other, Bilbo realized that the youngest Durin still had to be asleep. So he served tea to just one dwarf and returned to kneading bread-dough afterwards.

After a little while Fíli asked in a cautious voice: “Are you still mad at uncle?”

Turning around confused, Bilbo asked: “Why would you ask me that?” After their nightlong discussion Bilbo and Thorin had returned to the smial, perfectly content with each other. No indication justified Fíli’s view in the hobbit’s eyes. Therefore something had to be going on and Bilbo was concerned to find out what.

 

Fíli on the other hand seemed determined to avoid Bilbo’s gaze, chewing his bottom lip, drawing circles on the wooden surface of the table. Only when the hobbit crouched down next to him, gently caressing his cheek to encourage the young dwarf to meet his eyes, did Fíli answer reluctantly. His voice was barely above whisper when he admitted: “I was looking into his room a few moments ago, and he had not slept in his bed tonight … or today … You know what I mean. Everything was ruffled but cold and he’s not here either, so …”

When Fíli trailed off Bilbo was glad that the dwarf still avoided looking at him. Because how on Middle-earth should he be able to explain Thorin’s current location, without implying something very, very inappropriate?

 

Luckily Thorin chose exactly that moment to enter the kitchen. He was clad in a well-worn shirt and a pair of long trousers but still looked slightly crumpled from sleep. Instantly Fíli looked at his uncle with great relief, only to notice that Thorin kept looking at Bilbo, just like the hobbit seemed to be transfixed by the dwarf.

Thorin started talking rather hesitantly: “I should …”

But before he could voice his opinion of what he should, Bilbo interrupted him: “Tea?”

Relaxing noticeably, Thorin nodded and answered with a relieved: “Yes, that would be very kind of you, thank you very much.”

“You are welcome.” Bilbo’s voice was calm and a tiny smile lightened up his features, before he kissed Fíli’s forehead to calm the young dwarf down, and went to fetch another cup to pour Thorin some reviving tea.

 

Confused by the tremendous amount of subtext that had been included in the conversation, but completely unable to comprehend it, Fíli kept looking from his uncle to Bilbo and back again. But both seemed to avoid each other’s gazes consequently, and before the young Durin could decide to call them on their strange behaviour, Kíli entered the kitchen.

 

From then on, their day very much started, for the youngest inhabitant of Bag End - at least by demeanour - made himself a home half on the bench and half on his brother’s lap, before nicking Fíli‘s tea and starting to talk about yesterday’s wedding. How superb the food had been, how delicious the ale, how funny the hobbits in their hopping and dancing, how breath-taking the decoration and what would become of all the left-overs?

Bilbo smiled and listened to his dwarrows’ musings about the aftermath for the party, while preparing bread, baking it in the oven, and kneading dough for a pastry he planned to get ready by teatime. When lunch was finished, all dwarrows went their own way, preparing for a relaxing day.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have a high passion for fanart. So if anybody would find it in himself to draw me a picture or even a sketch to one of my chapters I would be overjoyed to include it. With a link to the artist and her (his) homepage.


	20. Life at Bag End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's nice, it's cosy and the tiptoeing around each other has ended.  
> Mostly ;).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That't a small, brief interlude between the last drama and the next. So enjoy :).

Bag End became a peaceful heaven for the three dwarrows after that. Although in the earlier days, when Fíli and Kíli had played one prank or another on their host, they stopped after messing with the food in the pantry, hiding it all over the hobbit hole.

Bilbo’s scolding look and his information that regrettably no dinner would be served that evening, because of the lack of ingredients, brought them at heel and within the hour, every last grape and sack of flour was back where it belonged.

As punishment, Bilbo made them clean all the cupboards they had greased or wetted by storing food there inappropriately, and served a simple salad that evening as payback.

But no matter how stern his look or how strict his scolding when they messed something up, both boys came to adore him more and more, just like Bilbo loved them with all his heart. Might it be because they could feel completely at ease around him, because now their secret was out in the open, or because in a way they had adopted him as their substitute uncle, no one could tell.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The only indication of their growing familiarity were their more frequent touches when they were around their hobbit. They grabbed his arms or bumped his head with the same implicitness they used on Thorin. Every other day, after a relaxing bath, they would venture into the living room with wet hair, plopping down in front of Bilbo, expecting him to redo their braids. Something their hobbit never said no to, but only after a brief confirming look towards Thorin, that this would be okay from now on.

And although dwarrows tended to be very possessive towards their chosen ones, Thorin didn’t think twice about Bilbo doing the boys’ braids. The matter was different when it came to the oldest dwarf’s hair. Still remembering the brush-off Thorin had given him not to long ago, Bilbo refrained from asking his fiancé if he should do his braids too.

 

Thorin however put an end to Bilbo’s worries when he ushered away two sleepy dwarrows and claimed the place at his hobbit’s feet, three days after the wedding.

He had carefully picked the twelve tiny white roses out of his hair on Sunday morning and pressed them between the pages of a book he had borrowed. So this was very much the first time his braids had come undone, and as an engaged dwarf, he reserved the right not to redo them by himself.

Having nothing else to do but to enjoy the moment, Bilbo took his time with Thorin’s hair. He untangled it carefully with his fingers, brushed it cautiously with his wooden comb until it was nearly dry and shone like polished obsidian in the light of the fire. Only after a good hour did he pick up strands to braid them, according to Thorin’s liking. After he was finished, he couldn’t keep himself from trailing his fingers through the long, dark tresses, and Thorin sat perfectly still to encourage Bilbo to continue.

 

In all honesty, Thorin was reluctant to move at all. The untangling and brushing had felt far too good for him, and Bilbo toying with his strands now was pure bliss.

It took a considerable amount of self-control for Thorin not to purr at the tender ministrations, and only when he heard his nephews wish them a good night with a short giggle, did he sit up, and lost contact with Bilbo.

The dwarven prince knew that he should rise. Nothing could be less appropriate for a future king than sitting at the feet of a hobbit, allowing him to tug at his hair. But while he knew that, Thorin couldn’t bring himself to care or to get up.

Bilbo seemed to pick up the dwarf’s comfort, and a few moments after the boys’ retreat he returned his attention to Thorin’s hair. With Fíli and Kíli gone, he even grew bolder and started to rub Thorin's scalp tenderly.

The dwarf closed his eyes and seemed to melt into the smaller form behind him. Leaning his head against the knee that framed his body. Thorin relaxed completely while being massaged so gently.

 

“You have very beautiful hair, you know? I would give a lot for it, but mine is curly and unruly and you are the first one who is able to tame it at least somewhat.” Bilbo’s voice shook Thorin out of his enjoyable doze, but instantly he turned around and looked at Bilbo concerned.

His voice was open and earnest as he stated, „Your hair is beautiful! It’s like spun gold in the sun and in this firelight it looks like fine woven copper. I should make silver clasps for you, so that there would be a sharper contrast. But I thought that copper would suit you better.”

Reaching for the end of Bilbo’s braids, Thorin thought about the different designs he had composed for Bilbo’s clasps. Some of them contained more stones and looked far more precious. But for Bilbo they had all seemed so wrong. The hobbit was a simple creature; too much decoration in his fine hair would overwhelm it.

 

Now it was Bilbo’s turn to remain still, so as not to disturb Thorin in his musings. He had never felt particularly appealing or pretty. He was smart, and respectable these days, and that ought to be enough for a hobbit. But when Thorin said these things, looked at him that way and touched him with such compassion, he couldn’t help but lower his face to hide his flaming cheeks.

To change the subject, Bilbo suddenly tilted his head and asked, „Are clasps always made of metal?”

Drawing back his hand, turning around so that he was sitting on the floor in front of Bilbo, able to look into the hobbits face, Thorin nodded. “Of course they are. Metal is good and strong and sturdy. Sometimes children start to make clasps from wood, because it’s easier to handle and … well … you know … already a round circle, so only the decoration has to be done. But while we wear them, when we are presented with them, we dwarrows prefer metal clasps. Wood can’t be inlaid with gems or jewels and is very limited in its function of carrying engravings.”

Thorin was confused by the enigmatic smile Bilbo gave him during that explanation. But when he tilted his head in an unspoken question, the hobbit just shook his head and changed the subject once more. “How long do you think it will take to get an answer from the Blue Mountains, regarding their stocks?”

 

Returning to his chair, Thorin picked up his glass of wine and considered the distance, and the questions Bilbo had asked in his letter. “Well, I assume that about a week might pass before we hear anything. The birds are swifter than the travellers, but the answers you seek can’t be found easily. Calculations need to be done, to get a general idea of the provisions available. Why do you ask?”

Bilbo just shrugged his shoulders and mused, „Well I guess I’m a little anxious about the planning of the necessary treks to the mountains. Because while we hobbits might leave the Shire occasionally, we have never made such a long journey just to transport food.”

“Have you thought about asking for help?” Thorin didn’t want to impose his opinion on Bilbo. He just felt that the easiest solution seemed to elude his hobbit’s mind.

The dwarrows were in desperate need of the Shire’s help. They would do everything to make things easier for the hobbits. Journeying far and wide was not uncommon for dwarrows, and the Shire was just a short distance away from their new home. Having travelled across half of Middle-earth, for them a two-week journey would be comparable to an afternoon walk.

Bilbo’s face lit up considerably at that prospect. “Do you think they would do that?”

Thorin could only smile and shake his head. His hobbit was ready to go such a long way for his people without even expecting the slightest support from them. So why … “Did it ever occur to you that my people will thank you on their knees for what you are willing to do for them?”

Reaching for Bilbo’s hand, Thorin rubbed gently over the hobbit’s wrist and declared, „Bilbo, each and every dwarf in our kingdom will be at your service, as soon as they find out that you are the one who saves them from starvation.”

Trying to pull back his hand, Bilbo shook his head rather irritated. “I am not saving them from starvation. This land is rich and fruitful. I am sure you …”

But when Thorin interrupted him with a rather forceful shake of his head, Bilbo gave up his attempts to get back his hand. Allowing Thorin to place a tender kiss on the inside of his wrist, he could only look into his fiancé’s eyes when the prince stated, „Yes Bilbo, you do. And I will make sure that each and every dwarf under the mountains is aware of that, before you even set foot there. You are the saviour of our people, Bilbo Baggins. You should always remember that.” He rose, bowed respectfully and retreated for the night.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo looked down at his wrist for a long time after that, trailing the places where Thorin’s lips seemed to have burned themselves into the skin.

He was no saviour, yet Thorin seemed convinced otherwise. What should he do with a bunch of dwarrows that regarded him docile and viewed him as a kind of rescuer? That was not what he wanted. He wanted to do right by these people. Something his grandfather would have done in the first place, had he known how dire the situation in the Blue Mountains really was.

But for now there was no way to change Thorin’s opinion. Maybe he would find a way to talk to the dwarrows before the prince could instil his opinion on them. Surely they would see the truth that he was nothing but an ordinary hobbit and should be treated as such. After that, they could make plans of how to get the food to the mountain.

Yes … that was a good solution. Because while everybody was entitled to his opinion - and Bilbo felt rather flattered by Thorin’s - he would not allow the dwarven prince to place him on any kind of pedestal. He was Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, and when he was treated with the respect he deserved, everything was well.

Satisfied by these thoughts, Bilbo returned to his room, smilingly picked up the big blanket and crawled into his bed, remembering how awfully inappropriately, but wonderfully this day had begun.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin closed the door to his room silently and leaned against it, breathing deeply. It had taken a lot of restraint to let go of Bilbo only moments ago. His hobbit, his wonderful, selfless, humble hobbit had such a distorted picture of himself that it pained Thorin to the core. He wished to swoop Bilbo up, to place him on a pedestal high above all else, so that no harm could ever befall him and no harshness ever reach him.

But more than anything else, Thorin wished to have his fiancé in his arms once again. To bury himself in the soft, shining locks. To inhale Bilbo’s clean and earthy scent and never, ever let go of him.

His need for Bilbo’s closeness rose by the day, and once again Thorin regretted being inexperienced in the affairs of the heart. Because while Bilbo was still affectionate and open with hugs and cuddles, they were not enough for Thorin anymore, not by far. He desired more, more closeness, more contact.

Although he knew everything that there was to know about political marriages, and the advantages of such connections, he had remained oblivious to this day, of how strongly one person could react to another, or how to entice a lover.

Thorin could lead dwarrows into battle, guide a whole kingdom through Middle-earth. He could make decisions that meant life or death for his people and feel confident about it. But with this small and gentle hobbit, he felt absolutely helpless and he wished so very much that he could change that, so he could make Bilbo aware of how much he meant for him. Not because the hobbit was about to save them, but because of who he was!

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

“Now it’s my turn!” Kili turned around in the bed and dragged his brother down, so that he lay spread-eagled on the soft mattress. Reaching for the almond oil, he poured a generous amount into his palm and rubbed it slightly to warm it up, before splaying his hands onto his brothers back.

The wedding – though all the fun it had been – had left them aching and the muscles of their back sore for carrying not only the babies but a bunch of other children as well. The massage they had planned to give each other was about to soothe that ache, but until now Fíli had insisted that there were still knotted muscles on Kíli’s back and had refused to let his brother get up.

But now the younger brother had insisted to take over, and so the golden mane of the older sibling spread on the blazing white sheets of the bed. The dwarf was nearly purring at the thorough massage his brother was giving him. This was absolute bliss!

After nearly an hour, during which Kíli had worked each and every muscle on his brother’s back loose, the younger dwarf lay splayed over his sibling, head resting on the small of Fíli’s back. Far too content with the situation, Fíli remained motionless until he asked in a low voice, „Do you think that uncle and Bilbo …”

Crawling over his brother, so that his chin rested on Fíli’s shoulder, Kíli asked with a mischievous grin on his face, „Do what …?”

Nudging his brother with his nose, Fíli laughed at the proximity and Kíli’s determination not to let him get up, before he answered, „Do you think they sleep together? They are engaged after all. It would be alright if they did, but somehow I don’t think that Bilbo had tried to make a move on uncle, at least apart from their kiss a few days ago. And Uncle Thorin … well … you know how he is.”

Drawing back slightly, so that he was covering all of Fíli’s back with his front, Kíli put his head between his brother’s shoulder blades and started to toy with strands of golden hair. He remained silent for a very long time and unsurprisingly Fíli looked over his shoulder after a while, trying to determine if his brother had fallen asleep.

But as if his movement had woken Kíli from a light doze, the younger dwarf shook his head and admitted, „No, I don’t think so. They both think too much about what is proper to have sex when anybody could notice it.”

Chewing his bottom lip, Fíli lay back on the cushion and nodded. Thorin was trained to be on display all the time and Bilbo was a respectable hobbit, as he had informed them repeatedly. The chance that they would think >screw dignity< and just do what they obviously – VERY obviously – both wanted, was nearly non-existent.

“Maybe … “ – “We should …”

After a brief musing, both brothers started to talk at once. And when they looked at each other, they knew that they shared an inspiration.

Fíli suggested, „It’s warm outside, we could sleep on the meadow under the Party Tree.”

But Kíli shook his head, „We could ask Missus Chubb-Baggins if they want an evening off and offer to care for the babies. If it’s really late, I am sure they wouldn’t mind us staying, and the floor in the nursery is covered with this really thick carpet with the rose and blue flowers on it. We would just need a few blankets.”

Looking at each other with the most brilliant grin, they approved Kíli’s idea and decided to ask their employer the next day if they could stay over for at least one night.

If Bilbo and Thorin didn’t see reason by then, they would have to consider more drastic measures. Something they were both absolutely willing to do for the happiness of two people they cared so very much about.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut's next to come.


	21. Private Claiming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interaction! Spiritual, Mental and Physical  
> You know what's going to happen, so enjoy ;).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's weekend, the sun is shining. I had a really relaxing afternoon with my family.  
> Although the next chapter might take some time, enjoy this nevertheless (See, one word. I can do this!).

So it happened that only two days later Bilbo and Thorin found themselves alone in the evening. Not that either of them minded, because although they both loved Fíli and Kíli with all their hearts, having an evening of peace was nothing to disregard.

Both males revelled in the quiet atmosphere of the evening. Bilbo read from one of his books once again, and Thorin was tinkering with one of his metal plates beside him. It was a comfortable and enjoyable evening, so it was far too late when they bade each other good-night and retreated to their respective rooms.

 

But though tired, when Bilbo lay down in his bed, sleep eluded him. His thoughts constantly drifted towards the dwarf in the room next to his. Bag End was empty but for the two of them. He could go over now, and no one would ever know. His respectable image would remain upheld because Bilbo was sure that Thorin was not one to kiss and tell. He knew that his dwarf desired him, could feel it in his kisses and could tell it from his looks.

But that didn’t mean that Thorin was willing to get intimate with him. Although he had spoken about public claiming as if it was absolutely natural - something Bilbo still could not see happening for the two of them - that didn’t mean that he was willing to give in to his own wants prior to their wedding.

After half an hour of useless tossing and turning, the hobbit got up again. Putting on his trousers and reaching for his shirt, he decided that a short walk in the cold evening air would do him good. Maybe it would even calm his overimaginative mind. But then he noticed a tear in his shirt. Exhaling slightly, he decided that this was a problem best solved immediately, reached for some thread and needle he kept in the small cupboard in his room, and started to stitch it.

The fire in his room was dying but a single candle provided him with enough light to work by. After cutting the thread with his teeth, he held up the shirt for inspection. He was about to put it on when he heard his bedroom door open.

 

Turning around, he found Thorin standing there, looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Taken aback by the picture of his dwarf only in his smallclothes, Bilbo remained frozen, forgetting all about the mended shirt in his hands.

For several moments, none of them said a word or reacted in any way. Both waited for the other to say something, do something to indicate that this was not what they both wanted. There was an unexplainable tension in the air, but none of them retreated. Finally Thorin closed the door behind him and stepped closer.

When he was really close to Bilbo, he reached for the small hand and pulled the hobbit against his chest. For the first time in their relationship, Thorin lowered his lips onto those of his hobbit, initiating a tender kiss. Instantly Bilbo closed his fingers around the hand that held him, pressing himself closer to intensify the contact. A soft groan escaped his lips when Thorin drew back, and without a conscious choice, Bilbo’s fingers reached for Thorin’s neck to drag the dwarf down again.

Once again they kissed and the most delicious sensation started to pool in Thorin’s belly. He had to pull back and shake his head slightly, to clear it from the intoxicating scent and feeling of Bilbo so close to him. He tried to remember why he had come here and after a calming breath he guided the hobbit back to his chair. Encouraging Bilbo to sit down, he kneeled before him in a heartbeat.

 

His rough fingertips started to explore Bilbo’s face, trailed through Bilbo’s shining curls and made their way down his arms and to the hobbits front. Thorin explored every piece of skin within reach, and the comfortable groans he heard from Bilbo in the process assured him that his gentle caresses were most welcome. But such simple contact was not the goal of this interaction.

Thorin hesitated only for a moment, but Bilbo reacted to his slight tensing up nevertheless. Opening his eyes again, he watched his dwarf, tilting his head questioningly. Bilbo’s breath hitched noticeably when Thorin slowly reached for the laces of his trousers.

Bilbo was more than aware that his desire clearly showed, but when Thorin’s fingertips ghosted over it, he nearly whimpered in yearning. He wanted this, by all the gods how much he wanted this, and thankfully his dwarf seemed to be more than encouraged by his compliance.

Had he expected Bilbo to stop him? How on Middle-earth should the hobbit be able to do that, when he was finally getting what he had desired all along? Leaning back against the chair slightly, giving Thorin more space to manoeuvre him, Bilbo couldn’t help but hiss slightly when the dwarf relieved him from his trousers and freed his erection from his smallclothes.

 

Thorin on the other hand didn’t feel as confident as Bilbo. Although he was well aware of the processes that were involved in making love to someone, he had never had the chance to experience them personally. Therefore it was a little disconcerting for him to deal with the hobbit’s passion. Bilbo’s desire lay before him and though he theoretically knew what to do, he felt reluctant to do it.

Only when he felt Bilbo’s small hand trail through his curls and saw the gentle smile the hobbit was giving him – telling him without words that it was alright, whatever happened, whatever didn’t happen, everything was well – did he relax. Returning the smile, Thorin lowered his head to brush a tender kiss on the hobbit’s soft belly, laughing along with Bilbo when he realized that his beard had to tickle his fiancé, before angling deeper.

When he tried to swallow Bilbo’s engorged flesh, he felt scalded by the silky heat of it. But within moments, he felt himself gagging on it. In a desperate attempt to steady himself, he reached for the armrests, to have something to hold on to. He wanted to do this for Bilbo, to make their encounter pleasurable for the hobbit, but his counterpart seemed to sense his inability to deal with the situation, and formerly soft fingers, pulled Thorin back insistently.

 

Ashamed by his inability to perform such a simple task, Thorin drew back and turned to the side, to hide his face in shame. He was well aware that his nephews performed such actions for each other on a regular basis, so why was this so hard for him?

Bilbo’s shifting in his chair, and his slightly amused voice defeated him when the hobbit whispered, “You should go easy. You act like this is your first time …”

“I’m sorry, I …” Thorin was unable to look at Bilbo, so he rose and went for the door. He didn’t want to have to talk about this. Not here, not now, especially not after he had embarrassed himself so thoroughly. But Bilbo’s calm voice held him back before he could leave the room, “Thorin, wait!”

Leaning his forehead against the door, Thorin felt Bilbo’s small hand reaching for his shoulder, but couldn’t allow the hobbit to turn him around. His fiancé’s voice was calmer now, but all the more insistent when he inquired, “Thorin, have you ever …”

 

He didn’t want this. He didn’t need this! He should be able to do better, but his whole life had been about his duties and not about his pleasure. This was so terribly unfair and Thorin was not willing to lower his guard, not here, not now. Therefore he whipped around, glared down at Bilbo angrily and hissed, “No, I have never! Is that what you wanted to hear? I had better things to do, than to take lovers in Erebor. I was raised to be a king! And after Smaug came, there was no time for such things. I had to care for my people, for my family! I was trained in the things that were needed, not …”

Bilbo’s hand on his chest stilled his rant almost instantly. Seemingly unconcerned by his dwarf’s angry words, the hobbit looked up at him with his head tilted to the side and asked gently, “Then why did you come here tonight?”

Exhaling slightly, resting his back against the door Thorin admitted, “Because I wanted to give you pleasure, because I thought …”  
Hitting his head against the door, because he could not find the words to explain his desires to the only person to whom they really mattered. He groaned in frustration.

 

When Bilbo dragged him away from the door, Thorin’s attempts for self-mutilation were stopped. But the dwarf only looked down at the hobbit with tired eyes. Bilbo on the other hand didn’t seem to think any of these revelations. Instead he asked, rubbing Thorin’s arm soothingly, “And what did you learn in preparation to being a king?”

Shrugging slightly the dwarf returned his attention to Bilbo. “Tactics, weapons training, diplomacy and the history of the dwarrows in general and Erebor in particular. That included the history of men as long as it connected with ours and even that of the elves of Mirkwood.”

“Do you still have teachers in the Blue Mountains?” Bilbo’s hand had reached Thorin’s and rubbed his thumbs soothingly over its palm.

“Of course I do. Balin - my father’s advisor - still takes it upon him to tutor me a few hours every week. Usually in a subject that has come up during the last council meeting or something he deems important.” Thorin’s affirmation came naturally. He was still a young dwarf. No one expected him to know everything that was important yet.

 

Unable to comprehend what caused Bilbo seductive smile, Thorin couldn’t stop a small hiss escaping his throat when his hobbit lifted his hand to his lips and traced the palm, he had just rubbed comfortingly with his fingertips, with the tip of his tongue. Thorin had not known that someone else’s tongue on his hand could wake these feelings inside of his groin. His eyes opened wide when Bilbo started to nibble on his fingertips, before dragging Thorin closer, tracing over the fine veins on his wrist playfully.

Thorin stood completely transfixed when Bilbo whispered, “Then let me teach you this.” He hesitated only for a heartbeat, before he allowed his hobbit to pull him closer, sealing their lips once again.

But this time their encounter surpassed a simple kiss. As if encouraged by the knowledge that Thorin would allow him to take the lead, Bilbo let his hot breath ghost over his dwarf’s neckline, travel down to his front and trail over his chest. The dwarf couldn’t hold back the groan when he felt soft lips tracing the scars on his chest.

He quivered slightly under the onslaught of all these different sensations. This was entirely too pleasurable, too new to be completely comprehensible for him. When Bilbo’s fingertips ran along his waistband, Thorin shook his head and stepped back. He forced himself to say, “That was not what I came for. I wanted you to …”

Looking up at Thorin, Bilbo whispered soothingly, “You wanted to give me pleasure. Believe me, I find pleasure in this. You don’t have to worry, just let go.”

But the dwarven prince shook his head, tensing once more. “No, this is wrong. It’s you once more who does the giving and me again who does the taking. This is not right. You should be able to lay back and enjoy this. I should be able to make this pleasant for you.”

 

Looking at his fiancé, Bilbo decided that - no matter how much he wanted his dwarf - Thorin was not ready for them being together. Too many memories, too much baggage still burned him. So the hobbit drew back slightly and guided Thorin to his bed. Sitting down, he patted the mattress right next to him and when his dwarf descended onto it, Bilbo slowly started to toy with his dark hair again. The dwarf usually found that relaxing. Maybe the gesture would calm him now as well.

His voice was calm and unconcerned when he brushed back a strand from Thorins face and asked, “Tell me something, something about your people, something about Erebor.”

Turning his head slightly so that he could look at his husband to be, Thorin shook his head, “Why would you want to hear anything about a lost kingdom?”

Laughing slightly Bilbo tugged at one of his braids before he admitted, “Because it is important to you. It’s part of who you are, and I want to know you better. You came here for me, that’s what you said, so indulge me … please.”

 

It would take a stronger dwarf than Thorin to resist such a charming plea. A plea that was accompanied by a flutter of Bilbo’s eyelashes and a very tempting smile.

So Thorin leaned back slightly and thought for a moment where to begin. Recalling the first birthday that he could remember, the heavy wooden axe he had been given, the cake, the laughing faces of his mother and father and even his grandfather, Thorin relaxed and started his walk down the memory lane.

 

Bilbo listened silently, caressing Thorin’s head soothingly, when pictures full of love and laughter were painted for him. He joined Thorin in his joy when he admitted what a rascal child he had been, not unlike Fíli and Kíli today, but alone. Therefore he had had far fewer opportunities to get into over-exaggerated trouble. At least until he had met Dwalin in the training area. Tall, handsome and strong, the two of them had become best friends, and after that all stops had been pulled. They had done everything together, even getting into trouble.

Thorin remembered his childhood and youth in the rich caverns of Erebor. He spoke of gold and the jewels, the riches the dwarrows had been able to claim from their mountain. His voice got nearly reverent when his tale reached the most precious gem of all: the Arkenstone.

He told about the meaning of the unique stone. How other dwarrows, as well as men and elves, had come to Erebor to pay their homage to his grandfather. But Bilbo could tell that something was off, as soon as Thorin started to talk about the elves.

In the hobbit’s opinion, there was no nobler race in all Middle-earth. He had always enjoyed his time in Rivendell with his parents, admiring Lord Elrond and his family, learning how to read and write their tongue, and many of the stories he wrote had originated in the stories he had heard there. But Thorin’s voice was distant and hostile when he started to talk about Thranduil, the Woodland King of Mirkwood, and his people.

 “Why do you hate them so much?” the hobbit asked in a low voice, all the while trailing his fingers gently through Thorin’s hair, to calm the dwarf from his agitated state of mind.

Nevertheless Thorin’s words were angry when he explained, “Wouldn’t you hate them as well, if they had been there at the doomsday of your people? If you had seen them looking down on you and not helping? Hundreds of dwarrows lost their lives that day! And Thranduil just turned his back on us. He is a coward and a traitor, not an ally to my people!”

Bilbo didn’t have to ask what day Thorin meant. It was painfully obvious, as was his next question. In a low but uncharacteristically insistent voice he demanded, “Tell me about the dragon.”

And once again, Thorin complied; even though he was reluctant to walk that particular path.

He told of the day when Smaug had arrived. Of the hot air that had bent the trees on the mountainside. Of the blazing flames that had ignited the City of Dale. Of the pained cries of his people, echoing in the mountain.

Only when a soft hand brushed over his cheeks did he realize that tears had started to stream from his eyes. But he couldn’t stop them. Not when he was free to talk about all of this, for the very first time. Not when he was finally close to someone who was not judging him, even when his emotions got the better of him.

It was liberating in its own way and only there, in the dark twilight of Bilbo’s bedroom, with his hobbit comforting him wordlessly, did Thorin allow himself to tell of his own terrors and his own fear when he was facing the gigantic lizard. He was able to admit to his desperation and his worries that he might not be strong enough to guide his people, after the battle at the gates of Moria. To recall his fervent search for a new home. His anxious attempts to find work that was paid well enough to support them. Always feeling that he was unable to do enough, help enough, provide enough for his kingdom while his father simply couldn‘t.

Thorin calmed a little when he started the stories of their new home in the Blue Mountains. Because although their situation was dire at the moment, he was now hopeful that they would manage. With Bilbo’s help at least, together they would manage!

 

The night was at its darkest hour and Thorin lay with his head on Bilbo’s chest, enjoying the gentle caresses of his hobbit. Never before had he felt so completely at ease with someone else. Of course he could relax in the safety of his quarters, when no one was watching, but never with someone else so close by, especially not when he had just poured his heart out. But telling this story, admitting to his fears and worries, had been tremendously disburdening for Thorin, and he was grateful that Bilbo was here with him, sharing his troubles.

His people expected him to stand tall and strong. They needed to be able to look up to their future king. But Bilbo … didn’t. This small hobbit expected nothing from Thorin, except maybe his honesty, and the prince was only too willing to comply in that matter. It was easy after all, now that Bilbo knew of their secret.

 

Thorin wondered if he should say something to make up for his mental breakdown, but as if sensing his friends worry, Bilbo leaned down to him, and brushed his mouth over Thorin’s lips. The kiss remained tender and loving, even when the dwarf opened himself up to it.

For the first time they share this endearment in equal parts. The hobbit teased when exploring Thorin’s mouth but retreated immediately, to allow his dwarf the same courtesy. It was enthralling and Thorin latched onto the motion willingly.

 

It didn’t take long before the both of them were panting. There was a mischievous glitter in Bilbo’s eyes, when he rose onto his hands and knees and started to crawl over the dwarf’s broad form. So Thorin was forced to retreat and lay down, to make room for the hobbit. They both were still in their smallclothes; although Bilbo’s opened ones left very little to imagination.

When the hobbit trailed the tip of his nose over Thorin’s chest, nuzzling the faint hair that covered it, and nibbled on one of Thorin’s scars once again, the dwarf nearly lifted himself of the mattress, as his body bent into the caress. His hands were reaching for something to hold on to, when a keen noise escaped his throat. “Bilbo, please! I can’t …”

When Bilbo nipped one of Thorin’s nipples, the dwarf’s hands hit the headboard hard. His vague attempts to find something to get a grip on were utterly futile. Looking down at Bilbo, breathing hard, his pupils were blown wide and he had to suppress a growl when his hobbit stated with a teasing smile, “Then don’t.”

 

Losing the last of his composure, Thorin dragged Bilbo further up on his body quite forcefully. He sank his hands into the hobbit’s soft curls and pulled him down for another, breath-taking kiss. His pelvis moved on his own accord, his weeping erection searching for any kind of contact to ease its burning pain.

And although Bilbo was more than aware of the state of his lover, he avoided touching their groins. Not that he didn’t want to … the gods knew how very much he wanted to … but that was not what Bilbo had in mind for tonight, for their first night together.

 

With a frustrated hiss Thorin finally let go of him and looked up into the dark eyes pleadingly. But Bilbo just pecked him playfully on the nose before Thorin slumped back on the bed with frustrated moan.

He barely registered that Bilbo was making his way down on his body again. His penis now so painfully hard, that it overrode nearly every other feeling in his body. Nearly, but not completely!

A soft sigh escaped him when he felt Bilbo’s sharp teeth on the waistband of his smallclothes. He buckled slightly under the sensation, until he became aware of his hobbit’s small hand hold him down. Thorin’s body was quivering when Bilbo’s fingertips trailed the top of his trousers, dragging them down gradually.

Thorin didn’t know what to do. He was unable to decide of how to react, when Bilbo threw his clothes away and looked up at him. His hot breath ghosted over the dwarf’s naked groin. Slowly Bilbo lowered his head, all the while looking steadily into Thorin’s eyes. The dwarven prince swallowed heavily. He didn’t dare to move or even breathe, out of fear that this was nothing but a dream, something that could vanish with a heartbeat.

But Bilbo was no dream. Smiling impishly, he slowly licked his lips, and the view of the small tongue, so achingly close to his erect member made Thorin groan once again. It took all his self-restraint not to buckle, not to close the short distance between his body and Bilbo’s lips. But luckily Bilbo took mercy on him after his teasing.

 

An animalistic shout escaped Thorin when the hobbit finally descended enough to kiss the tip of his penis. Soft lips over velvet skin that made the dwarf hiss heavily were swiftly followed by the dart of a tongue that dragged a wet stripe over its length. Thorin felt desperate when he admitted, “Bilbo … please … I can’t!”

 

Laughing lightly, his hot breath ghosted over Thorin’s wet skin, fanning the flames of the dwarf’s desire, Bilbo decided, “Of course you can. You will hurt me otherwise, and that’s not what you want, is it?”

Looking down at Bilbo with big eyes, closing his hands around the headboard to have something to hold on to, Thorin just shook his head and nearly lost his grip when Bilbo finally lowered his head completely onto Thorin’s groin. Bilbo’s lips and tongue, breath and fingertips seemed to be everywhere at once and Thorin felt that he would die from this sensual overload. But this was the best experience he had ever had in his entire life, so he desperately tried to hold on to this precious moment.

 

Expertly, Bilbo watched his lover, judged his reactions and coaxed growls and even an occasional shout from his dwarf. Glad to have found something that could make Thorin let go, Bilbo joyously teased his lover and brought him to new heights again and again and again, only to deny him completion every single time. His hands found his own body, stroking hot flesh in rhythm with his lover’s stimulations and every time Thorin started to quiver under his lips, Bilbo felt himself getting closer and closer.

His dwarf was an incoherent bundle of nerves. Everything in his body was pulled taut as a bowstring, and once again his completion was drawing nearer. Bilbo’s headboard creaked worryingly, but the furniture was the farthest thing from Bilbo’s mind now. Gently he toyed with the head of Thorin’s cock, kissing him fondly, stroking him with his tongue to coax yet another low whine from his dwarf.

 

The pressure in his own blood was rising inevitably, because never before had Bilbo shared himself with such a vocal and adorable lover and that in itself was arousing beyond compare.

Thorin’s noises were addictive and Bilbo very much doubted that he would ever seek out another, if this dwarf was gifted to him for the rest of his life. Desperate pleas in an unknown language reached Bilbo’s ear and the hobbit realized that his lover was at the end of his strength.

Swallowing once more as much of him as he was able, Bilbo drew back one last time. When he climbed up again, he could look into the beseeching eyes of his lover that seemed to promise him anything, anything he wanted, if he was only allowed release. Licking a wet stripe over his neck before grazing his earlobe with his teeth, Bilbo whispered, “Give me your hand.”

Instantly Thorin let go of the headboard and held out his hand to his hobbit. Bilbo took it and wetted its palm and his fingers with his skilled tongue. The uncomprehending eyes of his dwarf told Bilbo that this too was a new experience for him. Enjoying it all the more because of that, Bilbo guided the dwarf’s hand between their bodies, where he joined their erections finally pressing their bodies together.

 

Even Bilbo couldn’t suppress a powerful hiss when their bodies touched and his hand wrapped itself around both erections. Thorin was indeed a swift learner, because in that very moment he covered Bilbo’s small hand with his own, clutching them together. Desperately he reached for his hobbit’s neck, and dragged Bilbo’s mouth to his own, delving into its depths without hesitation.

The duelling of their tongues mirrored the movements of their hands when both became became more and more frantic by the minute.

 

When Thorin’s orgasm overwhelmed his body, the dwarf nearly lifted them off the bed. Only his powerful grip steadied Bilbo on his chest. As he was shaking in his release, the overwhelming shudders allowed Bilbo to follow on his dwarf’s tail.

Both painted their bellies and chests with their hot release and after a few more forceful shivers, Thorin slumped down on the bed, completely boneless.

Stealing another kiss from his lover, Bilbo untangled himself from Thorin and reached for a handkerchief that lay on his bedside table, cleaning the both of them with experienced hands.

The hobbit then climbed up on his bed and lay down next to his lover, feeling that the dwarf was still quivering slightly. Reaching for Thorin’s face, he brushed away sticky hair and hot tears that had welled up in his lover’s eyes. To steady him and calm him down, Bilbo dragged Thorin closer, allowing the dwarf to come down in his own time, all the while gently caressing his lover’s face.

 

It took a while for Thorin to calm down, and Bilbo was unsure how to proceed, it was their first night together after all. (At least the first night Bilbo was actually aware of.) But Thorin took the decision from him, when he turned in Bilbo’s arms and put his head to rest on Bilbo’s chest once again, and the dwarf’s arms and legs wrapped themselves around his smaller frame. Smiling slightly at the possessive gesture, the hobbit simply dragged his blanket over the both of them and closed his eyes with a content smile on his face.

Within moments, both were fast asleep.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter of Act 2 is coming up next.


	22. Miscommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we have a stupid dwarf and a hobbit who isn't much smarter. Where will this all end?
> 
> Well, with a finished Act 2 of course. Enjoy the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit the story got a little away from me during this chapter. That's why it's really, really long. I tried to break it up, but I couldn't find a valid breaking point. So you will have to bear with me. I promise you, you won't be bored ;).

The next morning was quite enjoyable for the both of them. Waking up after a relaxed night, snuggled into each other’s arms, Bilbo gave Thorin a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, and the dwarf grumbled for a few more moments. When Bilbo slid out of the bed, Thorin reached for his pillow and rolled over, with the soft cushion in his arm.

Relaxed, sated and joyful, Bilbo put on his dressing gown and went to prepare the second breakfast. It was much too late for the first, but sleeping in a warm bed, in the arms of a lover, was always worth skipping a meal. Good-naturedly Bilbo hummed to himself and had started a joyful song by the time the tea was ready. Sipping his first cup, Bilbo groaned in the bliss of this perfect morning.

 

Thorin held on to sleep for but a few moments, before letting go of the pillow and looking around. He had never, ever taken a lover before and his little hobbit had really blown his mind yesterday. All his muscles felt loose and compliant and in this very moment he felt like he would succeed in anything he set his mind upon. Smiling at that thought, he finally rose and went to his room to put on some clothes.

When he entered the kitchen, he found Bilbo looking out of the window, with a cuppa in his hand, humming contently to himself. Thorin hesitated for a moment because this situation definitely was new to him. Having never shared himself with someone before, he wasn’t sure how to react on the morning after. As he stood there in the doorway, feeling slightly awkward, Bilbo turned and saw him; and then Thorin couldn’t help but mirror his hobbit’s brilliant smile.

 

“What a beautiful morning this is, don’t you think?” Bilbo was definitely falling for this dwarf. His unsure looks and the unruly strands of hair that framed his face were absolutely adorable. Realizing that his friend seemed to be at loss of what to do, the hobbit stepped up to him, encircled his waist and rose to his tiptoes to kiss him gently on the lips. He could instantly feel the tension drain out of Thorin when he hugged the hobbit and buried his face in Bilbo’s hair. Allowing the gesture for a few moments, Bilbo simply smiled up at his dwarf after being released. When they sat down at the table, he poured tea and pushed some breadrolls and fresh butter into his direction.

 

Burying himself in his hobbit’s hair relieved Thorin of his last insecurities. Obviously Bilbo had enjoyed what had transpired between them, and he didn’t seclude himself from his dwarf again. Overjoyed by this outlook – maybe their marriage would be far more pleasurable than Thorin could have ever imagined – he sat down at the breakfast table and cherished the picture of his lover, before starting the first meal of the day.

 

Enjoying their breakfast in comfortable peace – luckily neither was the talkative type in the morning – Bilbo asked while pouring his third cup of tea, „You didn’t tell me what you thought after all.”

When Thorin looked at him questioningly, Bilbo’s cheeks coloured a little. He might have experience in the affairs of the heart – or the body so to speak – but he still was a hobbit, and hobbits didn’t talk about these things. Not openly. So he briefly searched for words, before he finally answered, „Well you told me what you had planned to do … when you came to my room yesterday. But you did never tell me why.”

Hoping that his somehow confused explanation made any sense, Bilbo looked at Thorin expectantly. And while it took the dwarf a few moments to decipher the hidden meaning behind his words, Thorin finally nod in comprehension. His words were soft, and he avoided his hobbit’s eyes, toying with the breadcrumbs on his plate, while admitting, „Well I thought if you would have a … ahm … pleasurable experience with me, you would … you would be more inclined towards the public claiming.”

When Thorin looked up at Bilbo at the end of his sentence, he immediately realized that he had said something really, really wrong. Not because Bilbo looked angry, or seemed ready to shout at him.  
On the contrary, the Master of Bag End appeared completely calm and composed, but absolutely closed off at the same time. Not a smile, nor an angry sparkle in his eyes betrayed his emotions, and for Thorin this reaction was worse than being shouted at or slapped.

Instantly he tried to rectify whatever wrong he had committed. “Bilbo, I …”

But the hobbit wouldn’t even let him finish his sentence. Rising from the bench with a sharp gesture, picking up some dishes, Bilbo turned towards the sink with a sombre, „I think it is time for you to go to work.”

Unable to comprehend the sudden change in attitude, Thorin tried once more to talk to his hobbit. „Bilbo, please, I …”

“Have a good day.” Bilbo’s words were polite but more distant than Thorin had even heard him on their very first day, when they hadn’t known each other at all.

Unsure what to do, unable to understand what had gone wrong, the dwarf found himself at loss. So he complied with his host’s wishes and with a low, “I’m sorry I … have a good day,” he left the smial.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo waited a few moments after he heard the door to his home being closed. He busied himself with dirty dishes and only when he was sure that Thorin was gone, did he allow the plates and knives to slide out of his hands, clattering into the sink.

Returning to the desk, looking into a half-empty cup of tea, Bilbo forced himself to take even breaths. He closed his eyes to keep his tears from spilling and fought down the terrible disappointment that threatened to overwhelm him. But most of all, he called himself a fool, the biggest fool in Middle-earth.

How could he have thought for a single moment that Thorin wouldn’t have a hidden agenda when he had come to him last night? He was a prince, for heaven’s sake, the heir of an entire kingdom! Why should someone like he be interested in a simple hobbit like Bilbo? How stupid was he, to have forgotten that for even one moment?

It could have been gratitude, and although this thought would have sat a little ill with Bilbo, he knew he would have overlooked it, in favour of sharing himself with this striking dwarf. Thorin was handsome and noble. He would be able to get every last dwarf he desired, and although Bilbo believed him that yesterday had been his first time – because honestly nobody could act this well – he even felt flattered that Thorin has chosen him as his first lover. Now that his … no, not his, definitely not his! … now that Thorin had gotten the hang of it, nothing would stop him from taking on other lovers.

However, Bilbo knew that he would still see his promise through, though it might mean being humiliated on a regular basis. Because marrying the dwarf, fulfilling the contract that had been agreed upon by his grandfather and the king, was the right thing to do. No matter the costs, they were worth the prize: the survival of an entire kingdom!

He just hoped that Thorin would be discreet with his affairs, when they lived together, because although Bilbo knew that he didn’t love him, he wouldn’t appreciate being the laughing stock of the mountain. He deserved better than that! He was a Baggins, of Bag End. He was respectable and deserved to be treated as such.

 

Finally the tears started to leak out of his eyes, because honestly, there was nothing respectable about allowing oneself to be manipulated through sex. To be persuaded to do something that he really didn’t want to do THAT way! But he had been unable to see it yesterday. He had allowed himself to be degraded in the worst possible way. And a part of him wanted to hate Thorin for going for this approach. But Bilbo knew that he had no one else to blame but himself. He should have known that Thorin was far out of his league. He should have been sceptical the moment the dwarf had entered his bedchamber.

In the Shire the dwarven prince had nothing but himself, his wits and his body to get what he needed, and he had made such a terribly clever use of all of them. He had persuaded his fellow Shirelings that he was at their service by offering his skills, and had proven himself ever since igniting the forge.

When Bilbo had made it clear that he would not even consider a public claiming, he had tried his very best to persuade the hobbit otherwise. How could Bilbo hold that against him?

 

Bilbo sat at the table for the better part of the day. Elevensies passed by and lunch too, without him moving from the spot.

The worst of all – really the worst, Bilbo understood after a few hours – was that the hobbit realized that Thorin’s plan might have worked after all. The public claiming was a part of the dwarrows’ traditions. If he planned to marry Thorin, as he had offered and Thorin had accepted only a week ago, he would have to go through with this. There really was no way around it if the contract was to be fulfilled.

Bilbo knew, to the core of his very soul that he would not be able to have another discussion on that matter. It was easier to simply give in and take this leverage from Thorin. Otherwise ‘the public claiming’ had far too much potential to hurt him again, and again and again, because right now Bilbo was sure that he would never be able to go over the topic once again without reliving his shame and breaking down.

 

Having reached this conclusion, Bilbo stood, rinsed out his cup, emptied the kettle and started to prepare for tea-time. After resigning himself to his fate, a hot cup of tea and a nice cake would do him tons of good. Maybe he would even get a little cocoa-powder and prepare himself a steaming mug of hot chocolate, with whipped cream. Yes … that definitely would help.

>There is nothing so bad that a cup of hot chocolate cannot cure!<

His mother had said that, and during their time together, had proven it over and over again. When Bilbo had returned with scrapped knees and tattered shirts after one of his adventures, after losing his first fling to another hobbit, even when breaking his arm after climbing the Party Tree, his mother had hugged him, dried his tears and sat him down at the kitchen table to provide him with a mug of hot chocolate. After that everything had been better, and together they had come up with a solution for Bilbo’s problems.

Yes, hot chocolate would be the best course of action now!

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin’s day was not much better than Bilbo’s. Tearing himself apart over what he had said, although he still couldn’t comprehend why his hobbit had reacted that way, he had broken two knives and a spade he had been commissioned to make, before finally giving in, simply working on chunks of old metal, melting them together and preparing them for forging.

Nobody came to him during lunchtime – not that Thorin had expected it, hoped for it maybe, but not really expected it – and it was far into the afternoon when he first looked up from his anvil. He was covered in sweat and dirt and at the end of his strength. Leaning over the forge, he desperately thought of a way to make things right between Bilbo and himself, only to come up empty every single time he picked his brain.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Fíli and Kíli on the other hand felt giddy and full of pleasant anticipation all through the day. The Chubb-Bagginses had accommodated them in their guestroom and the evening with the babies had been tremendously enjoyable. These fauntlings were so cute and the boys had spent a good deal of their time grooming their hair, trying to plait it, though realizing that their locks were still far too thin for that. But it had brought all four of them a great deal of joy and the moon was high in the sky when the dwarrows had finally put the fauntlings to rest.

Back in the small room their hosts had provided them with – their smial was considerably smaller than Bag End – they had talked about the prospects for their uncle, and getting an additional uncle in Bilbo if the two would be able to do something about their attraction. In the boys’ minds there really was no way for the two of them to NOT work it out. Honestly, they liked each other, were even engaged! To neglect the pleasurable parts of a relationship would just be … well, stupid!

 

So when their workday was over, Fíli and Kíli decided to interview Thorin and Bilbo alone. Deciding that Fíli would go to the forge and Kíli home to Bilbo, they went their separate ways, all the while laughing to themselves in pleasant anticipation.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Fíli was the first one to realize that something had gone tremendously wrong. Thorin was leaning over the forge, tired and worn in a way his nephew had not seen him since the dwarf had worked in the town of men during their travel toward the Blue Mountains. He realized how very much Thorin was beside himself, when he flinched slightly as Fíli put his hand on his shoulder, though the younger dwarf had not really been silent in his approach.

“Uncle?” Fíli was really not sure of how to proceed. He had imagined a very different scenario when coming here.

But Thorin instantly composed himself and just nodded towards his nephew, retreating from the anvil. “It’s time to go back, isn’t it? I’ll be with you in a moment. I just want to clean myself.” And with that Thorin put away his hammer, and left the forge in favour of a quick wash in the fountain in the backyard.

Fíli used this time to simply stare into the fire, trying to figure out what could have gone wrong. Finally the young dwarf decided to follow his uncle into the backyard and try to talk to him. He found Thorin looking into the well, as if answers to unspoken questions lay at the bottom of it. Eventually Fíli picked up the courage to say something, „Uncle, you …”

Whipping around with slightly wet hair, Thorin shook his head, as if shooing away an unpleasant thought and tried to pass back into the forge. But Fíli held him back and asked, „Uncle Thorin, what is wrong? Did you and Bilbo have a fight?”

“Yes … No … I don’t know.”

Lowering his head, Thorin slid his arm out of Fíli’s grasp and sank onto the small bench that stood beside the door. When Fíli kneeled in front of him, looking up at his uncle with worried eyes the dwarven prince simply shook his head, admitting in a low voice. “I really don’t know, Fíli.”

 

Confused by the admission, Fíli dared to ask, „You and Bilbo … didn’t you … I mean, yesterday … did you make use of the free time Kíli and I gave you?”

Unable to supress a sad smile, Thorin lowered his head, so that he didn’t have to look at his nephew, and whispered, „Yes, we did and it was …” muddled but in desperate need to say it out loud, Thorin admitted in a reverent voice, „… it was incredible.”

 

He hadn’t said that to Bilbo. Maybe it would have changed something. He should at least have said “thank you”. Acknowledging how much last night had meant to him, not only the sex, but also Bilbo listening to him. How much it had meant to finally have someone who didn’t expect anything from you, anything but you being yourself.

 

“Did you …” Never before in his life, had anything ever been so embarrassing for Fíli than this conversation. Thorin was his uncle, for crying out loud. HE should be the experienced one. HE should be the one to know what to do. But in this matter, Thorin simply was clueless. Maybe it would have been the same for Fíli, with all the responsibilities and the misfortunes of their people, but Fíli had Kíli, and in this very moment he was thanking Mahal on his knees for it. Literally!

So he was a little hesitant to ask, „Did … you hurt him?”

Looking up at his nephew in confusion, Thorin tried to remember the past night. When he had touched Bilbo it had been with considerable force behind it, but he didn’t think that he had hurt his fiancé in any way. Surely Bilbo would have said something. So finally he shook his head, once again leaving Fíli and himself unsure of what to do.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Things went better for Kíli, at least a little bit. When he entered the hobbit hole with a huge smile plastered on his face, and tiptoed towards the kitchen, hoping to get a glimpse of a chipper hobbit, he deflated considerably when he found Bilbo sitting at the kitchen table, staring into a half empty mug of hot chocolate.

What puzzled the dwarf even more was the look that Bilbo gave him, as soon as he saw him standing there. It was absolutely and utterly empty.

“Oh Kíli, you are back early? Is Fíli not with you? Well, never mind, sit down, I have some hot chocolate left, and a seed cake. Do you want one for tea?” The hobbit rose and busied himself in the kitchen. He invited Kíli to sit down, asked him about his day, all the while being polite and friendly but so very distant as if he were miles away. The ever-present smile that usually lit up Bilbo’s whole face, was nothing more than a drag at the corners of his lips, not reaching his eyes at all.

 

Kíli noticed that their hobbit’s face was slightly puffy; his eyes rimmed red as if he had been crying, and his hands shook – barely noticeably – but they shook in a way that spoke of weariness and depression. Although having been shielded as well as possible from the unpleasantries of life, Kíli was still able to read these signs, having seen them on his uncle and his mother during their travels through Middle-earth. Bilbo was physically and mentally exhausted beyond caring.

Therefore he simply stepped up to Bilbo, turned the hobbit away from his stove, and guided him to his chair in the living room. Kíli was more than a little scared at the empty look in Bilbo’s eyes and the compliance with which the hobbit allowed his youngest guest to direct him. Still forcing a smile on his face when Kíli went to his knees in front of him, allowing the dwarf to touch their foreheads tenderly, Bilbo just looked into the cold fireplace afterwards, not saying a single word.

“What happened, Bilbo? Did you and uncle … did he hurt you?” The young dwarf was more than reluctant to discuss this matter, but it was unbearable for him to see their beloved hobbit so completely lost.

But the hobbit just shook his head and turned his attention back to the dwarf. Forcing a smile once more, he reassured him, „No, Kíli, don’t worry. Everything is alright. Just let me get the hot chocolate and we will have a nice afternoon tea.”

As the hobbit made to stand up again, to see to his duties as a polite host, Kíli finally snapped, jumped to his feet and pushed Bilbo back into the chair. „You are NOT alright, so stop it!”

Slightly embarrassed at having shouted at Bilbo, Kíli hesitated only a moment before puffing his chest out and continuing, „You are so not alright that even my grandfather could see it, and he has no experience with hobbits at all! Stop lying to me, Bilbo. That’s not right! Something is bothering you. Fíli and I left you and Uncle Thorin alone for a reason, we expected you to be happy, yet you sit here and look like …”

Deflating slightly, Kíli kneeled down again, taking the hobbit’s hands into his own, and asked pleadingly, „I don’t know what you look like; you look like hell, to be honest. Please tell me what happened last night. What went wrong?”

 

Forcing his tears back down when remembering, Bilbo shook his head and struggled to admit, „Last night was really great. You don’t have to worry about that. Your uncle was … a real gentleman. So you see it’s alright. Everything was … is fine.”

Shaking his head empathically, Kíli indicated insistently that he didn’t buy a single word of Bilbo’s assurance.

After a few long moments of silence Bilbo confessed, „It’s not what he did that was wrong but why he did it. I realize that my opinion on public claiming is not really satisfactory for Thorin. I just wished he would have used a different approach to persuade me of its advantages.”

 

Kíli would not have looked more stunned if Bilbo had taken a hammer and hit him with it over the head. Repeatedly!  
After several heartbeats the young dwarf asked, „Just to clarify this: Uncle Thorin slept with you because he wanted to persuade you to agree to the public claiming?”

Exhaling in defeat Bilbo nodded and shrugged with a dry laugh. “Yes, and who could hold it against him. It worked! I realize that it’s a necessity so we will see it through. I won’t contradict him in that matter anymore.  
See … everything is alright. And now I will prepare tea and we will leave this unpleasant discussion behind us.”

 

This time Kíli didn’t stop Bilbo from rising. Instead the young dwarf turned around, grabbed his boots and stormed out of the house, leaving a very confused hobbit behind.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When Kíli entered the forge and found his uncle and Fíli in the backyard, he couldn’t stop himself but pushed his uncle sideways from the bench in cold fury.

Shocked and confused by his nephew’s sudden hostility, Thorin rose and growled at Kíli. In his agitated state it was easier to get angry, because that did chase away his confusion, at least for a few moments.

But instead of retreating under the forceful glare, Kíli shouted at him, visibly annoyed, „How could you? How could you tell him that it was all about the claiming? Do you have any idea how hurt he is? That’s not what you do when you lo… when someone means EVERYTHING to you!”

 

Both Fíli and Thorin looked at Kíli in absolute shock before the older brother adopted Kíli’s hurt look on behalf of their hobbit, glaring at their uncle.

Reaching for his brother to calm him down, something that Kíli allowed only reluctantly, Fíli turned towards Thorin and shook his head. Realizing from his confused look that the older dwarf simply didn’t get it, he clarified, „You don’t sleep with somebody and tell him afterwards that it was nothing but a means to an end. You could as well have told him that you have no interest in him at all and were only using him.”

“But that’s not …” Thorin started, only to stop himself midsentence.

“I didn’t …,” a second attempt to justify his actions was no more successful than the first, until he realized that yes, he had said exactly that.

Sinking back to the bench, hands dragging through his hair, pulling despairingly at the strands, he finally understood why Bilbo had closed up so suddenly. Shaking his head, he admitted in a low voice, „Yes I did. I said exactly that. By Mahal, how can I ever make this right?”

 

The brothers looked at each other. In the end Kíli was the one who took up the discussion. “Was the claiming really the reason for you to … you know ...”

Exhaling in defeat Thorin shook his head. After a while he whispered, „No, it wasn’t. I just told him that because … I don’t know. Because he asked for a reason and I couldn’t think of any other explanation. I would consider myself blessed to have someone like Bilbo in my life, no matter the circumstances. The stupid claiming is not important, as long as he is willing to stand by my side.”

 

Looking at his brother, nodding slightly, Fíli untangled himself from Kíli and stepped up to his devastated uncle. Crouching down in front of Thorin, Fíli said, „Then you have to tell him that. If you can make him believe you, he might be able to forgive you.”

Looking at his nephew with desperate eyes, Thorin asked, „If it where you, could you forgive something like that?”

Smiling warmly at his brother, Fíli nodded. “When someone is really important to you, than there is very little you can’t forgive.”

Looking at his nephews, realizing that they had so much more experience than him in the affairs of the heart, Thorin finally nodded. He would have to try. Try to make Bilbo understand what a fool he had been, to paint their night as anything else than it had been: the best thing that had ever happened to him.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

In the evening supper and dinner were rather tense affairs.

Though Bilbo was the perfect courteous host, his smile never reached his eyes and all three dwarrows could see that he had once again closed himself off completely. And while Bilbo tolerated Fíli and Kíli’s touch, mirroring them mechanically, he gave Thorin a wide berth.

When the young dwarrows insisted on taking care of the washing up, Bilbo allowed it and left the dining room.

 

Thorin felt at loss of what to do.

Standing in the middle of the dining room, unsure whether he should follow his nephews or his fiancé, he finally decided to give Fíli and Kíli a hand, because they seemed like the safer option. He was still not sure how to talk to Bilbo.

When the remnants of food were stashed away and the dishes and cutlery safe in their cupboards, his nephews nudged Thorin towards the back garden, where Bilbo had gone. Taking up his pipe with a heavy heart – how on earth should he make this up to the hobbit? – he left the smial.

 

Bilbo enjoyed the tranquillity of the evening, in familiar surroundings, his nose filled with scents of flowers and herbs he had known all his life; he simply smoked his pipe and revelled in his solitude. He closed his eyes for a moment when Thorin stepped out of his home, but instead of retreating back inside – he was the owner of Bag End and had every right to be here – he pushed over his tobacco and proved to himself and his guest that he could be the perfect host, no matter the circumstances.

 

It took the duration of one pipe for Thorin to pick up the courage to speak. “Bilbo, I am sorry for what I said this morning.”

Forcing his face into another grimace that should have been a smile, Bilbo shook his head and said in a bleak tone, „An apology is not necessary, Thorin. I understand what you tried to do and I am grateful that you were honest with me this morning. I can assure you that your course of action was successful. I won’t refuse the public claiming any longer. If that’s how it is meant to be, so be it. We will get through with it. There is really no reason to talk about it anymore.”

Against his best intentions, Bilbo felt himself rising. He had thought himself strong enough to deal with Thorin like an adult. But right now he simply wanted to hide, so that the dwarf would not see his pain. It might be stubborn pride on Bilbo’s side, but it was all he had at the moment.

 

Realizing that EVERYTHING was going in the wrong direction, Thorin rose to keep Bilbo from fleeing the garden, something the hobbit seemed ready to do. He was well aware that his touch was not welcome, but he simply didn’t know what to do any more. So he kneeled down in front of Bilbo, to block his exit and took the hobbit’s freezing palms in his hands, rubbing them soothingly.

Bilbo fought the gesture for a moment, but then admitted a silent defeat. He just looked at Thorin with tired eyes, resigning to a fate where he was helpless against the stronger dwarf in front of him. Why had he tried to refuse the claiming at all? It was not as if Bilbo had any power to contradict Thorin. They were bound together by a foolish decision on his part. But it had been the only sensible solution, it still was! So the hobbit had to see it through to the bitter end, no matter the circumstances.

So Bilbo was a little surprised when Thorin’s voice didn’t sound strong and determined, but reluctant and terribly ashamed. “Bilbo, please … listen to me, just for one moment. I was everything BUT honest with you this morning.”

He flinched. Too much pain had come from the secrets and lies the dwarrows had wrapped themselves into ahead of their arrival. Bilbo could not fight Thorin’s strong fingers that rubbed over his pulse-points, trying to calm him down.

When his hobbit breathed more easily once again, Thorin continued, „When you asked me why I had come to you yesterday, my mind fled to the most convenient answer. But my response was just that: convenient. It was neither honest, nor was it true.”

Unwilling to allow Thorin to make fun of him by such a plain deceit, Bilbo tried once again to pull back his hands. But still the dwarf would not let them go. Thorin’s voice rang with supressed emotions when he continued, „The truth is, even when a tiny fraction of my mind thought about the public claiming, I would have wanted to come to you no matter what. Even when you forcefully denied our tradition, that is something I can accept, you have to believe me!

“Please, Bilbo, you have to understand!” Looking up at his hobbit pleadingly, Thorin squeezed his hands empathically before resuming his explanation, „All my life, I have been someone of interest for my people. Whatever I did, whatever I didn’t do. How I did things. Everything was focused on, scrutinised to the very last detail.

“Then Smaug came. And then there was the battle of Azanulbizar. And then we were searching for a new home. And all the time the people expected me to be an example for them. Everybody was looking at me, IS looking at me! Everybody but you.  
You didn’t expect me to solve your problems for you, you solved them yourself. You came to me like a gift from Mahal and for the first time in my life, someone was there who didn’t judge but helped me. Who solved problems I could find no solution for. Ever since our first encounter you have become my Saviour.”

Lowering his forehead to Bilbo’s hands, brushing his lips slightly over the silver bracelet Bilbo had yet to take off. Thorin sighed, deeply and wearily before he went on. His voice was kind of muffled, but the hobbit could still understand him.

“I have always done what was expected of me. I have tried to fulfil every hope my people had placed in me. But with you, with us,” looking into the hobbit’s golden-brown eyes with so much longing that it made Bilbo catch his breath, Thorin admitted, „You were the first thing, the only thing, in my life I have ever wanted for myself, without any judgment, without any compulsion to justify myself.”

Thorin’s deep blue eyes were so open and honest and so tremendously vulnerable when he said, „You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Bilbo. And I am so very sorry that I made you believe otherwise. Please, please forgive me.”

 

Helpless against such a desperate beseeching, Bilbo couldn’t keep himself from burying his fingers in Thorin’s hair and dragging the dwarf closer.

Thorin wound his arms around the hobbit’s waist and held onto him like a drowning man. Shaking with desperation and exhaustion, Bilbo massaged Thorin’s scalp gently, to calm the both of them down.

He heard murmured apologies time and time again, but now they were no longer necessary. The hobbit was overwhelmed with the dwarven prince’s admissions and he believed him. Maybe he just wanted to believe him, but Thorin had sounded so open and honest that Bilbo couldn’t imagine his words to be yet another form of deceit.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The stars were rising in the sky when Bilbo finally stated, „We can’t go on like this, Thorin.”

For a mere moment, Thorin held on to Bilbo even tighter so that the hobbit was afraid his bones would break. But then the dwarf let him go and sat down, in front of him.

Thorin felt tired and defeated. He had hoped that Bilbo would forgive him, that an explanation would be enough. But obviously that had not been the case. He should have offered something of himself, his blood, his braids, maybe even his beard. But he hadn’t expected Bilbo to want something like that. The hobbit seemed too gentle for such strong oblations. Now everything would fall to pieces and he had no one to blame but himself.

He was reluctant, but complied when Bilbo nudged his chin up, so that they could look into each other’s eyes. Steeling himself for the inevitable, Thorin listened to his hobbit’s gentle voice when Bilbo explained, „You have hurt me twice already and the times I have hurt you during the first two months of your stay here can’t even be counted.”

Confused by where this was meant to go, Thorin shook his head uncomprehending.

So Bilbo continued, „Every time one of us is lying to the other, is trying to deceive the other over … I don’t know … his reasons to be here. His reasons to do this or that … even why he wants to be with the other … we hurt us.”

Gently brushing a dark strand of hair away from his lover’s face, the hobbit explained, „We are engaged, about to be married, and not because we love each other, but because two headstrong people made a stupid deal. We might be forced into this, but we don’t have to make this any harder on ourselves.”

Looking at his fiancé imploringly, he continued, „We don’t have the slightest chance of a content life, if we are keeping this course.  
If we value our pride over our true feelings, we will achieve nothing, but make each other miserable.

“You said something really stupid this morning, Thorin. And it was not only stupid, but from what you just told me, it was also untrue. And I didn’t question it. I just accepted it because … because it had fit my opinion so much better than any other explanation …”

 

Thorin chose this moment to stop Bilbo’s speech. Reaching for his hobbit’s hands once again, Thorin brushed his lips over Bilbo’s palm and asked in a low voice, „How can me manipulating you for my own purposes make more sense to you than me valuing you more than all the gold of Erebor? Bilbo, you are the most precious person I have ever known and I will spend the rest of my life trying to assure you of that. You have to believe that. Please!”

 

Gently cuddling Thorin’s cheek, Bilbo touched their foreheads and whispered, „Then start by promising that you will stop lying to me, Thorin. Don’t deceive me because you don’t know the right answer to a question. You are neither my prince nor my future king. You are my fiancé and I will do my very best to call you on your next mistake, rather than retreating and brooding over it. But I have to be sure that you will do the same. We are in this together, and we won’t achieve anything if we can’t find a common ground.”

 

Leaning into his hobbit as much as he dared Thorin nodded slightly, not wanting to separate himself from Bilbo. In a low, but earnest voice he promised, „I swear to you. On the life of my people, I won’t lie to you again, nor will I try to deceive you or put my pride ahead of anything that concerns you.”

 

Terribly relieved by that answer, Bilbo drew back and nodded gratefully. With a small but honest smile he stated, „Good. That’s good, … thank you. I think we should call it a day then. We didn’t have a restful night yesterday and all the … after everything that has happened today, I am really tired.”

 

Standing up so that Bilbo could rise, Thorin hesitated for a moment before asking guarded, „Would it be … would it be terribly imposing of me to ask if I could accompany you?” Raising his hands in defence he clarified, „Just to sleep by your side. I just … I really would prefer not to be alone tonight. If … if that would be alright with you.”

Looking at his fiancé, Bilbo decided that – due to their limited time here – it would really be best if they became familiar with each other as fast as possible. Once in the Blue Mountains, everybody would expect them to act like husbands. So it really was the most sensible solution. And if he enjoyed the proximity of his future husband … well nobody could hold that against him.

Therefore he admitted with an honest smile, „It would be my pleasure, Thorin,” offering his hand, so that they could enter the smial together.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	23. Act 3

* * *

# Act 3

* * *

 


	24. The Sons of Fundin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As you might have noticed, we are still 10 dwarrows short.  
> Let's start with the first two.

To say that the Fíli and Kíli were gloating when they saw Thorin emerging from Bilbo’s room the next day was an understatement. On the other hand, this remained the only incident of Bilbo and Thorin’s spending a night together. The boys’ speculations about what had happened were equally amusing and frustrating for their uncle.

Not because they were indiscrete or rude, but because Thorin felt desirous of a repetition of the event they contemplated about so very much, although he was unsure how to achieve it. Bilbo had Thorin allowed to share his bed only twice so far: first when they had made love, and that had been the best night Thorin had ever experienced. And then the second time around, and though there had been no sexual intentions, Thorin had still liked it very much. The hobbit had gotten comfortable and allowed Thorin to lie down beside him. But when he had sensed Thorin’s stiff posture, Bilbo had turned around and took the dwarf into his arms. Grateful and calmed by the desired contact, the dwarven prince had snuggled into Bilbo and had fallen asleep within a few minutes.

But that had not happened again for the last two days and Thorin had no idea how to talk to Bilbo about his wish to share the hobbit’s bed once more. The thought of the hobbit refusing him was too embarrassing, so that he didn’t dare to bring up the subject.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Two weeks had passed since the shouting match with the Took. In that time Thorin and Bilbo had talked about their course of action with the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains. They had attended a hobbit wedding together. They had talked about their different cultures. They had had a breath-taking night together. They had fought and made up.   
To say that they were in a somewhat turbulent relationship – despite the fact they were engaged – would be like saying that Smaug had a slight fondness of gold.

Bilbo and Thorin tried their best to make each other comfortable. But where Bilbo succeeded most of the time, Thorin was not so sure of himself. He tried to delight his fiancé with presents he had bought at the market or made in the forge – like a new vase after Fíli had smashed the one in their room, or an intricately engraved wide plate for Bilbo to arrange food on. Thorin basked in the brilliant smiles the hobbit gave him when he received these gifts. But he still felt unsure of how to approach Bilbo regarding his more … private desires.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

This afternoon had been horrible; really, truly awful!

Nearly a week after the wedding Lobelia Sackville-Baggins had taken it upon herself to scrutinize Bilbo’s fiancé in person and had spent the whole afternoon – four full hours! – at the forge. She had asked indiscreet questions about Bilbo, and nosy ones about Thorin’s own family, regarding their position in the society of the Blue Mountains.

Still feeling obliged to show himself humble and cooperative, Thorin had indulged her to the best of his ability, while trying to keep Bilbo’s private life private and his own status as heir of the dwarven kingdom hidden. But every half-answer seemed to encourage her only more, so close to five o’clock, Thorin was slightly rude, when he guided her out of the forge, lying about Bilbo waiting for him with tea. It was still a little too early to call it a day, but the woman had given him a massive headache and he wished for nothing more, than the calm and serene interior of Bag End.

 

Slowly and wearily he made his way up the hill, hesitating before entering his temporary home. He didn’t want to drag his day’s problems inside. So he took a moment, resting his head against the round, green door, basking in its warmth and the smooth texture, imagining the welcome he would get from his hobbit, before he finally pulled himself together and entered.

 

Surprised by Thorin’s early return – Bilbo had just been preparing tea, while waiting a few more minutes for an apple tart to get ready – he approached the dwarf in the entrance hall with a concerned look. Thorin’s whole posture spoke of tiredness and exhaustion. After ridding himself of his boots, the dwarf stepped up to the hobbit. Bilbo instantly asked in a worried tone, “What’s wrong, Thorin?”

With a forced exhalation and a wearied shake of his head Thorin explained himself with one simple word, “Lobelia.”

With a commiserative laugh Bilbo simply opened his arms and dragged Thorin in. EVERYBODY would need a thorough hug after dealing with this obnoxious woman, even if it was for only ten minutes, and his dwarf looked as if she had bothered him all day long.

Relaxing into Bilbo’s comforting embrace, inhaling the clean scent of his hobbit – lavender and the earth of the Shire, sunshine and the strongest of all: apple pie, and didn’t that make his mouth water – Thorin slowly relaxed. Rubbing his forehead against Bilbo’s shoulder, he murmured, „She ‘honoured’ me with her presence the whole afternoon and I swear to you, had I not been trained in patience and endurance, I would have thrown her out within the first hour. I’m sorry, but I have to say that your cousin is terribly indiscreet!”

Laughing again while trying to imagine that particular scene, Bilbo let go and touched his and Thorin’s forehead. “Well, what do you say to a strong cup of tea and a big piece of apple-tart with freshly whipped cream?” Amused by the near ecstatic look on Thorin’s face, Bilbo grabbed the dish-towel he had placed in his suspenders for safekeeping and promised, „It will only take a few more moments, then we will bury ourselves in the most delicious tart this side of Bree and you can rant about my cousin for the rest of the afternoon.”

When suddenly the doorbell rang, both shared a confused look – Bilbo didn’t expect any guests at the moment – but Thorin simply took the dish-towel from him and suggested, „I will take care of the tea and have a look at the tart, and you get the door? I swear if it’s that woman again I will hide under your bed!”

The hobbit smiled at his great warrior who seemed to be brought down so easily by his cousin. Bilbo nudged Thorin towards the kitchen and went to get the door.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Dwalin, son of Fundin prided himself on being an experienced warrior with as much patience as expected and as much endurance as needed. He had fought dragons and orcs, had watched their kingdom fall and had followed his prince the entire time. The thought of Thorin going to the Shire with only his nephews in tow had sat ill with the soldier from the very beginning. And while he knew very little about the arrangement behind it all – his brother, the king’s advisor, had only offered the vaguest hints – he was well aware that it had not been a pleasant cause. His friends had barely been able to hide the look of despair, when they had said their goodbyes.

So when his brother Balin had asked his king for a leave to meet with Bilbo Baggins, he had insisted on coming along. Now he stood on a hillside, watching Bag End. Balin had told him that he would meet with the thain, getting himself up to date on the current developments regarding the contract between the hobbits and the dwarrows. But Dwalin – feeling no desire to meet the despicable hobbit who had forced his king to send his son and grandsons into servitude – had stayed behind, awaiting his brother’s return so that they could approach the hobbit-hole together.

He had watched the temporary home of the Durins carefully and had even gotten a glimpse of the hobbit who owned it. First the small creature had climbed the hill beside the house with a big basket of fresh white linen. Sheets that were now dancing in the wind on a long washing line. And not too long ago, he had picked up some apples from the big tree beside his house. Juggling two of them with one hand, the hobbit has seemed joyous and good natured while returning to his house, a basket of ripe and delicious looking fruits in his hand. Dwalin asked himself if the guests of “Bag End” knew this side of their host as well, or if they worked and worked all day, until they fell into bed exhausted in the evening.

When he saw Thorin climb the hill from the other side, he had to fight his desire to approach him. Watching his slow and tired steps, Dwalin grew more and more worried. When the prince rested his forehead against the door, as if to collect his last strength before entering the hole, Dwalin clenched his weapons so hard that his knuckles turned white. His breathing got heavy as he fought the desire to storm up to his friend and drag him away from this dreadful place. What on Middle-earth was this tiny creature doing to the Son of Thráin that he was so reluctant to enter his temporary home?

The warrior was aware that he should wait for his brother, but after a few moments, unable to hold back any longer, Dwalin approached Bag End. Steeling himself for what he was about to witness – he was well aware that he would have to show immeasurable restraint, if he didn’t want to ruin any progress the Durins had made over the summer – he finally knocked on the door rather forcefully, dreading to find a humble and servile Thorin inside.

The hobbit that opened it gave him a puzzled look. Relieved not to find his friend in an obsequious posture, he introduced himself, „Dwalin, at your service.”

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours.” The answer was more a reflex than a conscious choice.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The hobbit eyed his new guest with interest.

Dwalin … Dwalin … why did that name sound so awfully familiar?

Bilbo was lost in thought, when the warrior entered his house uninvited. Confused he asked after a heartbeat, „Excuse me, but, do we know each other?”

The dwarf shot him a condescending look before answering, „No,” crossing Bilbo’s entrance hall, looking around as if he was searching for something.

Dwalin … where had he heard that name before?

Thorin, Fíli and Kíli were the only dwarrows he had ever met face to face. But then it hit him. With a joyous cry, that made his new guest whip around, Bilbo shouted, „Dwalin! You are Thorin’s friend, the one who made him bury every axe in the armoury of Erebor, blade-deep into the training-dummies! You worked for two days to get them all out again!”

Dwalin shot the hobbit a terrified look: he had not thought about this particular mischief for more than a hundred years. But the hobbit seemed overjoyed. When his shining eyes drifted away from Dwalin, towards someone who had entered the room just now, the dwarf followed his gaze, dreading to find out who had heard about this embarrassing prank.

Dwalin was completely taken aback when he found himself face to face with the proud figure of his prince. Thorin watched him with happiness and the fatigue from before seemed to have vanished. The warrior drank in the sight of his old friend who seemed – contrary to Dwalin’s expectations – more content and relaxed than he remembered him since their days in Erebor.

So he simply stepped up to Thorin, and both laughed at their host’s anxious yelp when the bang of their foreheads sounded through the smial.

 

When Bilbo saw their laughing faces, he reminded himself to be a polite host and gestured towards the wardrobe, „Please Master Dwalin, be welcome to Bag End. If you want to hang up your cloak and remove your shoes, Thorin will show you the back garden, and I will serve tea in a few minutes.”

The new dwarf seemed more than confused by the suggestion, but Thorin simply shrugged and said good-naturedly, „The hobbit’s home, the hobbit’s rules. But believe me, my friend: it is worth the price. Bilbo has made the most delicious apple pie and we can enjoy it, as soon as you have relieved yourself of your travelling gear.”

 

All of this was not what Dwalin had expected. He retreated towards the entrance hall, but still didn’t let his prince or the hobbit out of his sight. They held a conversation in a low voice, where Bilbo gestured towards the back of the house, taking a dish-cloth that had hung on Thorin’s shoulder from him. And his prince, after trying to contradict the hobbit for a few moments, finally nodded and disappeared into another room. Soon he returned with two cups of the most delicate china in his hands and gestured his friend to follow him.

Only now did Dwalin realize that Thorin too was walking around barefoot. He wondered if that was a gesture of oppression by the hobbit, to remind the dwarrows of their place inside of his home, but from what Dwalin had seen, Bilbo had not worn shoes either. So his theory was highly unlikely. Wordlessly following his friend, the warrior took in the rich furniture and the exquisite accessories that decorated Master Baggins’s home.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Balin approached the Old Took’s smial with a slight feeling of dread in his stomach. Expecting a bitter and deprecatory old hobbit – being aware of the details of the contract between his king and the thain of the Shire, he had actually prepared himself for the worst. So he was pleasantly surprised when a dark-haired hobbit with a smile on his face and a baby on his hip opened the door.

Still, he introduced himself as, „Balin, Son of Fundin, First Councillor of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain, humbly at your service,” bowing low.

The elderly hobbit tried to supress his amusement at the prolonged introduction. The white-haired dwarf seemed quite tense, and after having dealt with Thorin’s anxiety regarding their arrangement, the Old Took mused that it might not be different for this Balin, Son of Fundin. So with a pleasant smile and small nod, he introduced himself as, „Gerontius Took, thain of the Shire, entirely at yours.” Shifting his youngest from one hip to the other, he asked friendly, „Would you like to join us for a cup of tea?”

The new dwarf seemed to needed a moment to adjust to the unexpectedly warm welcome. But swiftly a smile spread across his bearded face and he bowed once again. “It would be honoured, Sir,” he said, entering the smial and the Old-Took closed the door behind him with a smile. After having offered Balin, Son of Fundin a comfortable armchair in his living room, Gerontius went to find his wife to inform her, that they would have a guest for tea.

So over a cup of tea and a most delicious seed-cake that had been served by a tremendously charming lady-hobbit, Balin was informed about Bilbo fulfilling the contract and being engaged to Thorin. He heard about the positive impressions all three dwarrows had made in Hobbiton over the last two months. And of course he got the affirmation that the hobbits of the Shire would support the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains in any way possible.

 

Balin took in the last part of the message with tremendous relief. His king had only allowed him to travel to the Shire, because His Majesty had wanted to know on what terms of the contract had been fulfilled. Thráin had desired a first-hand impression through his councillor. Therefore the dwarf was immensely relieved not only by the Old Took’s assurance of the hobbits’ help – although he kept mentioning that his grandson knew much more about the current state of preparations for the trek than Gerontius himself – but also that neither the lads nor Thorin had to pay for the support with a lifetime of servitude in the Shire.

Nevertheless, Balin guessed that being engaged to a hobbit who held all of their lives in his hand did not give Thorin a lot of freedom. He had to entertain his fiancé after all. But still Balin was grateful that it had not come to the worst. The prince’s former tutor was a little worried about Thorin’s ability to show himself supportive towards his future husband, because he was well aware of how headstrong Thorin could be. On the other hand, he knew very well that there was literally nothing Thorin wouldn’t do to ensure the wellbeing of his people.

So in the end he thanked the hobbit profoundly for the warm welcome, and left to meet with his brother, so that they could finally go to Bag End. He was not surprised – more like resigned – when he realized that Dwalin of course had NOT waited for him. Worried that his brother might drop a clanger with the hobbit, Balin hurried into the given direction, and stood in front of a round, green door only a few moments later.

 

He was a little less surprised when after a single knock the door was opened by a cheerful, small hobbit, with golden locks and warm, brown eyes. Politely he introduced himself, „Balin, Son of Fundin, at your service.”

Smiling radiantly the hobbit answered, „Bilbo Baggins, at yours. What a brilliant day.”

Confused about a comment on the weather, Balin turned around to judge it, before saying, „Yes, it really is, though it might rain in the evening.”

Laughing and shaking his head at the strange answer, Bilbo invited his latest guest into the smial, took his coat to hang it up while admitting, „I really didn’t expect you to come personally, Master Balin. A letter with the necessary information would have been sufficient. But I assume you would like to talk to Thorin, after not having seen him for so long. Come in, come in. Please take off your boots and then I will show you out.”

Overwhelmed by the insistent way of this small creature, Balin did as he was told, although he was irritated: why he should leave so soon after his arrival, and without his boots at that? However, as soon as he had taken them off, Bilbo showed him through his home and opened another, smaller, round door into a blooming garden.

Balin couldn’t help but mirror the wide smile his prince gave him, when Thorin rose from the bench and hugged him tightly. For the first time since this cursed correspondence had started between his king and the thain of the Shire, Balin felt himself relax slightly.

Thorin did not look downtrodden or oppressed. On the contrary! The dwarf seemed perfectly at ease in these atypical surroundings. He smiled more openly than Balin had seen him in a very long time, and although his stance was still strong and self-assured, his shoulders were not as tense and his bearing not as taut as before. If Balin hadn’t known better, he would have said that Thorin was happy here.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo went back inside to get another cup, dishes and cutlery for Balin, when he heard two booted feet storming into his kitchen.

“Bilbo! Missus Underhill told Missus Chubb-Baggins that Missus Took told her that the Old Took had dwarfish guests today!” Kíli nearly tripped over himself when he recited the way the gossip had travelled today.

But before Bilbo could say anything, Fíli took up the cue and said, equally excited, „Do you think that they may have come from the Blue Mountains? Do you know how many dwarrows are here? Do you think that they brought messages from home? We haven’t heard from the mountain in a while. Do you think they will stay in the inn? I have heard that they travelled in a party. Can we go and look for them after tea?”

Placing three plates, along with cups and forks, teaspoons, fresh milk and sugar on a tray, Bilbo smiled through the boys rant. When they finally tried to catch their breath he suggested in a stern voice, „Maybe … just maybe, when you remove your boots at the door as I expect from you, and you promise not to break the dishes when carrying them out, I will tell you that Master Dwalin and Master Balin are sitting in the back-garden with your uncle.”

Bilbo laughed at the whirlwind of activity, when the boys removed their boots and picked up the prepared tray very carefully. The hobbit followed silently and as soon as Fíli and Kíli had left the smial, he heard the joyous reunion and loud chatter in an unknown language.

Smiling happily that his dwarrows finally got news about the state of their family and kingdom, Bilbo closed the door and returned to the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt his friends.

He wasn’t aware that only Balin registered his retreat and gazed at the closed door with a thoughtful look.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Happy for his friends, Bilbo prepared himself a fresh cup of tea. He grieved a bit for the loss of the apple tart – knowing Fíli and Kíli as he did, he was aware that not a single crumble would survive tea time – he helped himself to two honey cakes and entered his study with his snack.

Now that Balin was here, surely they would be able to go over the provisions for the Mountain. After that Bilbo could finally start to gather everything else that was needed. Excited about the prospect to get to the actual planning of the trek started, Bilbo sat down at his writing desk and organized his notes, to present them to Balin in the neatest form possible.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	25. Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A past is revealed and has to be dealt with.

After having shared stories about the Blue Mountains, the wellbeing of Thorin’s father and the boys’ mother, as well as the state of the kingdom, they all sat in the hobbit’s blooming back garden and enjoyed Bilbo’s apple tart in companionable silence.

Finally, when they had all had their fill, Balin leaned back on the comfortable garden-bench and looked at the young prince. Scrutinizing his former pupil, the Councillor commented with a hint of curiosity, “So, the hobbit is wearing your braids...”

Sighing nearly inaudibly, Thorin nodded and looked at the sons of Fundin with a serious expression. “Yes, he does. Although the Old Took had demanded otherwise, Bilbo found out about the arrangement between the thain and our king. He went to his thain and confronted him. When everything was out in the open, he offered me his hand in marriage. We all knew that this was the most desirable outcome, so … I accepted.” Thorin admitted with a small shrug.

Looking at the heir, Balin nodded. The old dwarf could sense that Thorin was holding something back, and although the story made a lot of sense, there was more to it than the prince was willing to admit. Suggesting a possible reason for Bilbo to offer his hand so easily, Balin suggested, „So, did he fall in love with you to offer himself so freely?”

He very well registered the slight shadow that seemed to darken Thorin’s features for a heartbeat. But after composing himself the prince shook his head and explained, „No, he doesn’t love me. We are friends, nothing more.”

“Then why would he even consider marrying you? I admit that this is – more or less – the ideal result, but not the only one.” Inquisitively Balin looked at the dwarven prince.

 

“He …” Thorin shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment. He really did not enjoy remembering that special afternoon – though he was glad about the outcome. What he had heard that day was too sad to remember.

Fíli and Kíli sensed their uncle’s distress, and while Kíli was already sitting next to him, resting his head on Thorin’s shoulder, Fíli rose from his position on the bench facing the two of them, and stepped around his uncle to stand behind him, leaning against the bench seemingly casually.

Smiling about the obvious support, Thorin steeled himself to go over the revelations from that particular afternoon. „I learned why the Old Took forced this cruel test on us. Two winters ago, when father had received the letter with the thain’s plea for help, he declined, as you surely remember, Balin. That winter the Old Took lost his daughter and her husband to rabid wolves that had crossed the frozen Brandywine River, which usually protects their borders.”

“Then why did he even…?” Dwalin’s rough and unbelieving voice interrupted Thorin’s story, but he instantly stopped talking, when his brother placed a hand on his shoulder, nodding towards Thorin to continue.

Thorin smiled sadly, remembering that he had thought exactly the same thing when he had heard that Belladonna and Bungo had died that winter. So he explained, “I too couldn’t comprehend his leniency. But you have to understand something about hobbits, my friends: they believe in second chances, and sometimes even in third and fourth. After we proved ourselves to them, they welcomed Fíli, Kíli and me with open arms. The thain was truly offering us a chance in spring. We were just too ignorant to see it.”

Balin realized that they had derailed from the original topic. Guessing that Thorin had done this partially on purpose and partially because he believed his words to be necessary for Dwalin and him to understand their host, he returned to the original question, „But that still does not explain why Bilbo offered you his hand.”

 

Thorin had known that his old tutor would not let him deflect his question so easily. So he sighed slightly, drew strength from his nephews’ warm touches on his shoulder and back and continued. “Because Bilbo realized what a terrible task Gerontius Took had forced on us. He contradicted his thain, showing his displeasure, by offering me his hand. With that, he negated the possibility for one of us to be forced to remain here, working as a servant for the hobbits, for the rest of his life.

“Bilbo said that, although my father had chosen wrong by denying his help, the thain hadn’t done much better by forcing this test upon us. The Old Took was not pleased, but he was forced to accept his grandson’s decision.”

“His grandson…?”

All four dwarrows now looked at Thorin with confusion, and the prince realized that not even Fíli and Kíli had known about the blood relationship between Gerontius Took and Bilbo Baggins.

Nodding in affirmation, Thorin felt Fíli’s hands on his shoulder clench and Kíli tensing at his side. His oldest nephew was the one to make the connection the fastest. As if afraid that his musings were correct, Fíli whispered, „But that means that the Old Took’s daughter and her husband could have been …”

Looking at his brother, Kíli realized that his sibling would never be able to finish this sentence; the thought was too horrible to consider. But they had to know, they NEEDED to know how much their grandfather’s refusal to help had cost their dear hobbit. So forcing himself into speech, the youngest dwarf finished with a nearly inaudible voice, „… that they could have been Bilbo’s parents?”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin could just nod, when suddenly the door to the smial opened and a smiling hobbit entered the garden. With a joyous hum on his lips, Bilbo started to collect the plates, cups and cutlery from the table. Only after a few heartbeats did he noticed the tense atmosphere around him and instantly looked at his guests apprehensively. “Is everything…?”

But before he could finish the question, he found two dwarrows clinging onto him, shivering profoundly. Instantly closing his arms around the boys, trying to soothe them to the best of his abilities, all the while terribly confused about the source of their agitation, he whispered to them, “Shhhh … Fíli … Kíli … everything will be fine. Tell me what is wrong so we can fix it. Shhhh ... what’s up?”

A muffled voice beside his left ear revealed, “They were your parents!”

Still not enlightened by this statement, Bilbo only understood when a thick voice from his right side explained, „Our grandfather did not send help two winters ago, and the hobbits that died were your parents: Bella … Belladonna and Bungo!”

Hugging them even closer, feeling his jacket getting wetter and wetter, Bilbo tried his very best to calm his frantic boys, while throwing his fiancé with a scolding look, asking visibly annoyed, „Why did you have to tell them? They didn’t need to know. No one does, it’s not important for you lot.”

 

It was Balin who picked up the conversation at that point, contradicting his host with a gentle voice, „How can it not be important when it is the reason for all of us being here?”

Sinking into the grass, because Fíli and Kíli’s weight was wearing him down – attending to the dwarrows in his arms was a lot easier that way – Bilbo shook his head, „It might be the cause, but it is not the reason. The reason is the Blue Mountains needing help. And we will help you. I fulfilled your king’s and my grandfather’s contract, and now we can concentrate on helping your people. That’s the only thing that is important.”

Thorin couldn’t help but feel incredibly proud that he was engaged to such an extraordinary male, and he was glad to see that even Balin was slowly picking up on that.

The old dwarf seemed impressed, but still a little reluctant when asking, „But why would you marry the son of the dwarf who caused the death of your parents?”

When Bilbo felt Fíli and Kíli shudder in his arms once more, he hugged them closer.

This discussion was stupid and now he has had enough of it. This was achieving nothing but upsetting his boys, therefore Bilbo told in a stern voice, „You cannot know that, and neither can my grandfather. What he did was wrong. A lifetime of servitude in the Shire is not suitable price to pay for simple neighbourly help. You don’t even want the food for free! You are willing to pay for it!

“Thorin and I might not have chosen this on our own free will, but we are able to deal with it. The king might have made a mistake two years ago, but my grandfather did not do much better. Two wrongs don’t make one right, not in my book. So I decided to make it right, to the best of my abilities.

“And that’s it! This discussion is at its end! From now on we will concentrate on the task at hand: feeding your people. Is that understood?” Looking from one dwarf to the other with a firm look, Bilbo continued to rub the backs of Fíli and Kíli comfortingly.

 

For anybody else, it might have come as a surprise to see three dwarrows folding under the stern gaze of one little hobbit. Especially one who was sitting unceremoniously on the grass, with two shivering dwarrows in his arms. But neither Dwalin nor Balin had the desire to contradict their host and Thorin had learned a while ago that there was no reasoning with Bilbo, when he had that tone in his voice.

Glad that this matter was settled, Bilbo nodded to Thorin and asked in a much friendlier tone, „Good. Now, could you please show your friends the guest-room beside the library and then the bathroom? I think they might want to freshen up before supper.”

With an affirming nod, Thorin guided the sons of Fundin into the smial and closed the garden-door after himself gently.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Dwalin was the first one to overcome his shock. “You really have a handful of a hobbit there. I would never have thought that these small creatures could be so … stern.”

Smiling at his brother and his prince, Balin added, „I think Bilbo Baggins is the best thing that could have happened to us. You can be proud to present such a consort to your father, Thorin. The hobbit will do great with our council.”

Remembering the endless afternoons in the council chamber listening to discussions about the best course for their people, nearly dozing off every time a decision was revised and re-revised, Thorin shook his head with a small smile. Nodding towards Balin he pondered, „Well I guess they will have to learn to deal with a stern hobbit, or else suffer his ire.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

After showing his friends to their room, Thorin returned to the kitchen and started slicing vegetables for a salad for supper. Carefully avoiding the cucumbers, he put everything else into a big bowl and realized only after a few moments that Balin had approached, eyeing him thoughtfully.

His old friend’s voice was soft and caring when he asked, „There is more than pride to your feelings towards the hobbit who is wearing your courting braids.”

Thorin gave a noncommittal grunt while looking for some fruits and nuts to accompany the salad.

Realizing that a sensible approach wouldn’t bring the desired result, Balin asked more directly, “Do you like him?”

“Of course I do. You have met him. He is an extraordinary person and I feel blessed to have him at my side.” Thorin still avoided looking at Balin, while starting to crack some walnuts.

Smiling at the obvious evasion, the old dwarf finally asked what he really needed to know, „Do you love him, Thorin?”

Only because he know him so very well, did Balin see the slight flinch that went over Thorin’s powerful frame, before the dwarf picked up his work again, answering lightly, „That’s not important, old friend.”

Turning around, Thorin offered Balin a smile. “He has agreed to marry me. Our people will be able to survive the next winter. Nothing else should be a concern for now. I hope you know about the upcoming harvest, Bilbo was very worried about not being able to transport everything that was needed to the mountain. He will need your support.”

 

Balin hid his joy very carefully. He had wished for Thorin to find love for such a very long time. Ever since the fall of Erebor the prince had thought solely about his duties and his people and never – not even for one moment – about himself. Bilbo Baggins, the kind and joyful and stern hobbit, would do him so much good, because even if they both might not have chosen this relationship in the first place, they surely had set things up so that they could make the best of it.

The hobbit had already fallen in love with Fíli and Kíli, if his behaviour in the garden was anything to go by. The Lady Dis would adore him, even if it was only for loving her sons and taking care of them. And Thorin … the look the dwarf gave the hobbit whenever he was around … so tender and loving. Even his evasive words from only a moment ago spoke in the hobbit’s favour. Thorin had a chance for a truly content life, when someone was around to share his burden. The fact that he had found it in the Shire with the most unlikely creature, gave Balin hope for the happiness of their people when the prince picked up his father’s crown, because a happy king meant a happy kingdom.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Meanwhile in the garden Fíli slowly got himself under control again. He retreated from the hobbit with some embarrassment. Keeping his eyes down – ashamed of his emotional breakdown – he hid his face in the messy strands of his hair, whipping his nose discreetly. Bilbo took his handkerchief and offered it to Fíli, while aligning Kíli a little more comfortably on his lap, where the young dwarf obviously intended to make himself at home. Letting his fingers trail gently through the dark hair, pulling it away from Kíli’s wet face that was pressed into his soft stomach, Bilbo made soft, soothing noises to calm the agitated young.

After Fíli had cleaned himself a little, he still wouldn’t let go of Bilbo’s tissue, twisting it in his hands instead. Shivering slightly he finally found the courage to ask in a small voice, „If your parents are dead because… if they died during the Fell Winter, why are we even here?”

Not pretending to be oblivious of what the dwarf was actually asking, Bilbo caressed Fíli’s cheek gently, dragging the slightly hesitant dwarf into his arm again. Kíli hugged him even tighter, as if afraid that Bilbo would push him away any second. Therefore only Bilbo’s left side was free for Fíli to put his forehead to rest on the hobbit’s shoulder. But still the dwarf insisted on an answer, „Why, Bilbo?”

Gently caressing both boys, Bilbo stated, „Why shouldn’t you be here Fíli? And you Kíli,” gently nudging the dwarf in his lap.

“Because…” Kíli’s words were muffled by the shirt that Bilbo was wearing (and that by now needed a thorough washing for sure) but the hobbit heard him nevertheless. Not wishing to go down that particular path again, he interrupted, “No Kíli … not ‘because’. You can’t know what would have happened if warriors from the Blue Mountains had been here. And neither can my grandfather. He just chose to be hurt and bitter. He tried to keep us hobbits safe from the ‘disregardful’ dwarrows of the mountains, as much as he wanted to punish you with this task.”

Nudging up the boy from his lap, even as Kíli would only let go really, really reluctantly, straightening both dwarrows into an upright position, Bilbo looked at them with a serious expression on his face. “You both are here because I really, really like you. You have proven yourself supportive and good-mannered – at least most of the time.”

Gently bringing order to the dwarrows’ messy hair, Bilbo admitted, „When my parents died I was angry and I was hurt, I was even sick for a very long time. I sometimes remember the night they died, and I have nightmares about it, I won’t lie to you about that. But even if your warriors had been here, it might not have changed anything.

“When my parents and I returned from a festival at the Brandywine Hall that disastrous night, we all thought that it would be safe. Wolves had been spotted far off the route we were traveling. No one could have known that we would be attacked. I refuse to let my opinion on a whole clan of dwarrows be coloured by a past – as tragic as it was – that I can’t change. If I hated all of you, what good would come of it? I would hurt nobody but myself.”

Shrugging slightly he continued with a loving smile, dragging the boys in until all of their foreheads touched, whispering secretively, „But I went into this open minded, and now I have two very special dwarrows to love so very much and I would never want to change that. So let’s just not think about the past, but concentrate on the future, shall we?”

The Durins buried their hands in his tunic for a very long moment, before nodding obediently and letting go. Getting up, both took some of the dishes with them and entered the smial.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Only when he heard Fíli and Kíli’s padding footsteps trailing down the corridor, did Bilbo lose his composure and leaned onto the table, shivering slightly from the stress that the overflowing emotions had caused him. He held onto the table for support. Resting his forehead against the worn wood, he whispered pleadingly, „Help me, mama … papa … I really want to make this right.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the fact that I will leave town on Thursday and will be off to a relaxing weekend with pen-n-paper in the middle of nowhere (just us, good food, music and roleplay) I am not sure that I will be able to publish another chapter before Sunday. Don't be to angry with me, I will try my best to indulge you, but can't promise it.
> 
> Love you all. Thank you so much for your comments and suggestions and remarks and critique. It's so much more fun to write this story with you as reader's than it would be just on my own.
> 
> *Shares 1.000 hugs and 999 chocolate-chip cookies*


	26. Honest Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help comes from the most unexpected source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised the next chapter.  
> I know it took a while, but I will tell you: I had a BRILLIANT weekend!!! With too much laughter, far too much to eat and drink and far, far, FAR too little sleep.  
> I think I will zonk out within the next hour, but IT WAS SO WORTH IT :) :) :)
> 
> Hope all of your weekends were equally good. Have a good start into the next week.

Dwalin had – after freshening up and changing out of his travelling-clothes – used his time to explore the hobbit’s home. He found the hobbit-hole far more extensive than it appeared at first look. He briefly listened to his brother’s conversation with Thorin, but decided that he didn’t want to interrupt Balin’s inquiry. Thorin would not open up easier, if there was only one of his friends questioning him.

As he completed his tour, he found he had gone in a circle and ended right in front of the door to the back garden. Having gotten a brief glimpse of two downcast boys approaching it, he stepped back to allow them an unhindered entry. After they had passed, he peeked out into the blooming surroundings of the hobbit’s garden.

 

He was quite surprised when he found the hobbit, leaning down on his garden table seemingly worn out by the emotional encounter with Fíli and Kíli. He had protected and comforted them like a fierce mother-bear, but now that they were out of sight, the emotional stress seemed to catch up on him. Why would this small creature go to such lengths to protect the young princes if it cost him so much? Why would he offer himself for a marriage with Dwalin’s best friend without gain?

Dwalin had heard Bilbo’s explanation. Yet he still had difficulties comprehending that somebody would be so selfless, so utterly caring by nature, that he would disregard his own resources so completely, that he allowed a situation to drain him out fully instead of retreating from it? His best friend seemed to care for this hobbit a great deal, and slowly the warrior came to understand why. Bilbo Baggins would need Thorin’s care, because while he thought of everybody else, he never thought of himself. Not until he was alone and at the end of his strength.

More than one protector would be needed, if this hobbit was to last in the Blue Mountains, especially as an active member of the Court, like his position at Thorin’s side dictated. Deciding that he should follow this small creature’s example of being selfless and supportive, Dwalin stepped into the back-garden.

 

Bilbo pulled himself together and forced a smile on his lips, when he heard someone enter the garden. When he spotted Dwalin he had to take a deep breath. The dwarf didn’t like him, was mistrustful because of the hobbit’s part in this charade. Bilbo couldn’t hold this against him. He simply had to prove that he was not the villain in this story. So he asked in a friendly tone, “Is there anything I can help you with, Master Dwalin?”

He was confused when the warrior shook his head and stepped up to him. The dwarf towered over him by a good head, but Bilbo refused to back down. He kept his friendly demeanour and gazed up with a questioning look on his face. He was more than surprised when he heard Dwalin finally speaking in a solemn and earnest voice, “I wish to apologize to you, Master Baggins.”

Puzzled by the admission – had his newest guest broken something in his room or in the bathing chamber? – Bilbo asked worriedly, “Apologize for what? Is something wrong? Did you hurt yourself when breaking something?”

 

Although Dwalin had expected that, it nevertheless came as somewhat of a surprise that the hobbit still was concerned first about the dwarf’s wellbeing, and only secondly about any mishap that might have occurred. So he continued, feeling more certain of his decision. “No, I wish to apologize for the inappropriate things I thought in advance to our arrival. You see, Master Baggins, I came here with a preconceived opinion of you, and though you have done nothing to deserve my prejudice, I allowed it to colour every experience I have made here, up to now.”

Unsure where this was supposed to go, Bilbo suggested, “Well, everybody is entitled to his opinion, isn’t he?”

Dwalin gave the hobbit an honest smile and shook his head. “No, not when the opinion is vile and completely unfounded. See, I was only aware of parts of the arrangement between my king and your thain … I mean your grandfather. But still I expected you to be cruel and arrogant. I was on my way of freeing Thorin from your vicious clutch when I arrived here today. You know, I saw him coming up here, looking so very tired, and he seemed so hesitant to enter that I assumed inevitably that he was dreading what was about to happen in here.”

 

“You … Thorin was reluctant to enter? But why …” Laughing because suddenly he remembered how his fiancé had looked upon his arrival today, Bilbo could very well understand why Thorin might have felt the need to collect himself before entering Bag End. Lobelia had the ability to drive anybody up the wall, and she had forced herself on Thorin for several hours. So Bilbo explained with a smile.

“Thorin had the misfortune of spending a lot of time with one of my cousins. You see, while most hobbits here are friendly towards guests, my second cousin Lobelia Sackville-Baggins is a very tiresome woman. Your friend kept his composure, where I would have thrown her out after a mere hour. Naturally he was drained by her interfering attitude, and I suppose he didn’t want to drag his frustration inside.”

Shaking his head at the stupid notion, Bilbo continued, “Of course it was utterly useless. The only way to deal with something like that is a thorough hug, a good cup of tea and a delicious meal. We were on our way of preparing that when … well when his black mood suddenly vanished,” the hobbit finished with a smile.

“How did it suddenly vanish? Did you …” Dwalin’s cheeks flamed up at the mere thought of his friend and this hobbit … but Bilbo’s could only laugh and shake his head.

In mocking sternness the hobbit folded his arms in front of his chest and asked in a seemingly shocked tone, “Master Dwalin, who do you take me for?”

Unable to supress a lopsided grin, the warrior felt the need to correct the hobbit. “I don’t take you for anything, I can assure you. And please, Master Baggins, call me Dwalin. I am no Master for anybody.”

“Only if you call me Bilbo.” came the swift reply, but the dwarven warrior shook his head. “You are the fiancé of prince Thorin, the consort of a future king. Calling you by your first name would be very inappropriate.” Balin’s etiquette lessons had stuck after all, especially with a brother at court. But still Dwalin wanted to know, “What changed his mood so suddenly?”

Bilbo smiled and revealed in a warm tone, “The arrival of a friend he had missed dearly for several months.”

 

Finally realizing how very grateful the hobbit really was for their arrival, even if it was only on Thorin’s behalf, Dwalin had the desire to give him something, something that showed how much his care for his prince was appreciated. Unable to think of anything else Dwalin offered, “I will call you Bilbo when we are among ourselves.” The hobbit’s overjoyed smile told the warrior that he had chosen the right treat.

Therefore he added freely, “And I would like to repeat the offer I made when you opened your home to me, because it was neither honest nor true at that time: I truly am – for as long as you need me – at your service, Bilbo Baggins. My brother might be able to provide you with knowledge, but I can provide you with support. Don’t hold back when you are in need of it, for I will be yours to command as long as you wish.” Offering his hand – realizing that his sudden change in demeanour might be too much for the hobbit – he was fully prepared to be spurned.

But even then, he intended to repeat his offer time and time again, to prove himself sincere, until this small creature could trust him as completely as his prince. His position as Thorin’s guard would be easier to fulfil if Bilbo Baggins could trust him. Protecting both of them would be impossible otherwise.

So he was impressed and a little proud, when Bilbo took his hand and shook it with unexpected strength. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing out loud when the act was accompanied by a wink and the admittance, “I really hope we can be friends. The Blue Mountains will be a dangerous road for me to travel. It would be good to have people around to catch me when I fall.”

Remembering the court, Thráin and the council, Dwalin realized that this hobbit had a clearer idea of what was waiting for him than the warrior might have suspected. But nevertheless he agreed with Bilbo’s opinion, so he simply nodded and assured him, “Thorin will be at your side and Fíli and Kíli adore you already, they won’t let you fall. Balin will help you too and I will have your back wherever you go. You are not alone, Bilbo Baggins. Trust me, we all are here to help you, just like you are willing to help us. Your generosity does not go unnoticed.”

 

Shaking his head at the over-dramatization of the situation, Bilbo wordlessly guided Dwalin back into his smial, to see how supper was coming around. He dreaded the state in which he would find the cucumbers he had harvested this afternoon.

Dwalin was a little surprised to find this small hobbit touching him so freely, but he took it as a good sign. Bilbo Baggins was willing to trust him and gave him the chance to prove himself, despite his initial bias against the little one.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo was more than impressed by a prepared salad when he entered his kitchen. He especially noted the neatly sliced cucumbers that decorated its top. Turning towards Thorin, who was cutting bread, he asked, “So my prince, have you had a talk with my vegetables and convinced them to behave properly, or have you finally learned to treat with care anything that is less hard than a dwarven head.”

With an amused laugh Thorin gestured to his old friend and admitted, “Balin sliced them. They still defy me in the most disrespectful manner!”

Laughing out, Bilbo gave his fiancé a swift kiss on the nose, before rescuing the salad bowl from Thorin’s elbow, nipping a slice of cucumber while looking at Balin gratefully. “So I see at least someone among Thorin’s circle of friends is able to handle delicate affairs.”

Balin gave Thorin a confused look, while the prince chose to enlighten his hobbit, explaining, “Balin is my father’s advisor. He’s the most cunning diplomat our kingdom has. He is used not only to the stubborn dwarrows he serves, but also the clever men and … and the elves that occasionally trade with us.”

More than by the incomprehensible conversation that had just taken place, or by the unexpected lack of loathing in Thorin’s voice when he talked about the elves, Balin was surprised by the seemingly insignificant gesture with which Bilbo comforted his dwarf when the topic of the elves came up. The Councillor couldn’t suppress his smile any longer when he observed Thorin take a relaxing breath and touch his forehead to Bilbo’s. Looking at his brother who had followed on Bilbo’s trail, the sons of Fundin gave each other an affirming nod. This was a very good relationship, one the kingdom would benefit from.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When a tired-looking Fíli announced that the table was set, everybody gathered plates of fruits or cups of nuts, a bowl of salad or a big plate with freshly toasted bread to join the boys in the dining room. Kíli looked no better than his brother and after forcing the two of them to eat at least some fruits and nuts, Bilbo suggested that they should take a relaxing bath and retreat early for the night.

Obviously not strong enough to contradict their hobbit, the boys allowed him to fuss over them, before he left them in a steaming tub that smelled of lavender and camomile. After half an hour he ushered them out of the cooling water and sent them to bed. He served a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream to each dwarf, so that they would not have to sleep on an empty stomach.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

After a rich supper, the sons of Fundin offered to help with the washing up and with four hands in the kitchen it was swiftly done, though Bilbo bickered about how unsuitable it was for his guests to help him with the cleaning.

The hobbit offered a glass of liquor to everybody, before finally relaxing into his armchair with a double shot. It had been a long day and although he was grateful for his new guests, because their presence meant so much to his dwarrows, all the drama the revelations of the afternoon had brought was catching up on him.

He smiled when Thorin nudged his feet from their usual place on his footstool, and made himself at home there, comb in one hand, glass in the other. Wordlessly Bilbo undid Thorin’s braids and started to comb through the dark strands, relaxing more and more with every stroke.

After a good while the hobbit found his voice again and started to explain the state of his preparations for the Blue Mountains. When he looked at Balin, after finishing the first braid on Thorin’s right side, he found the Councillor watching him in wonder. Suddenly realizing how very domestic this scene must look to his new guests – honestly until now he had just felt grateful that Thorin had offered himself for stress relaxation – he couldn’t supress a cheeky grin, before nuzzling Thorin’s hair openly and starting on another braid.

Thorin had to repeat Bilbo’s question, before Balin could collect himself enough to inform them about the current harvesting prospects and admitted that he didn’t know all of the current numbers by heart. Collectively they decided that Bilbo and Balin would discuss this in the morning, with their notes at hand.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Before retreating to his rooms, the hobbit took his usual evening walk through his smial. He always checked if every window was closed and all things were in their place. He caught Dwalin in the dark living-room, hands in his cookie jar. With an embarrassed grin, the dwarf put the container back on the mantelpiece. With his big hands, he’d had trouble getting them out of the jar with a cookie in them, anyway.

Without commenting on the cookie-nicking, Bilbo gestured Dwalin over to the window. In a low voice he asked the warrior, “This afternoon you offered your services to me. I ask myself if they – by any chance – might include smithwork?”

“Of course, I am a dwarf!” Came the very confused and slightly guarded reply. Dwalin had offered his services to the hobbit, but he had not expected the little creature to ask him to sharpen his knives or something like that. Surely he would not need Dwalin to make him a weapon, for while he seemed be able to handle a knife just fine, the warrior doubted that the hobbit would be able to work a sword or even a dagger.

So he was surprised when Bilbo produced a wooden bead from his pocket and held it up into the moonlight. “Can you make me a thin, blank bead to slide this over? I can’t work metal, but I can carve wood. And from what I have learned, hair-beads are a suitable gift for a partner.”

With a low chuckle, Dwalin reached for the wooden bead with care. He inspected the engravings, the polished wood, and came to the conclusion that this small thing was a true masterpiece. However he understood why Bilbo wanted it strengthened, at least from the inside. It was beautiful, but it still was wood. Without any support, it would break soon enough and if this truly was a gift for Thorin, his friend would surely be very sad if it fractured.

Delighted by this request, Dwalin nodded and promised, “I will create a shell for it, which will protect it from the inside. I will go to the forge with Thorin in the morning. I am sure I will be able to come up with a diversion to work there on my own, at least for a little while. Am I allowed to keep this for measurement?”

“Of course. I am really grateful that you are willing to do this for me. I was prepared to give it to him like it is, but with your offer from today … I think it will be more appropriate with metal on it. Your assistance will make up for my lack of skill,” Bilbo admitted with a grateful smile.

After enclosing the bead in a soft tissue, putting it away for safekeeping, Dwalin smiled at the hobbit and hinted a bow, saying, “Entirely at your service Master Baggins.” He put his hand on the hobbit’s shoulder and offered a warm, “Good night, Bilbo.”

With a small smile the hobbit noticed Dwalin’s retreat and swiftly stepped to his mantelpiece. “Good night – and Dwalin?”  
When the dwarf turned around one last time, Bilbo flung a cookie in his direction, laughing when he noticed the look of unabashed pleasure as the dwarf sank his teeth into it.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	27. Pleasure or Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terrible embarrassment, unabashed smut and endearments that keep a dwarf up at night.

The door to the back garden was the last one Bilbo looked after that night. It was rather late, but he could still hear murmurs from his newest guests’ room. Not wanting to disturb them, he went on and silently opened the door to glimpse into the room of Fíli and Kíli. As usual they lay intertwined on the bed, surrounded by soft cushions and covered by blankets and furs, as if they were lying in a big nest, heads placed on each other, rather than on the soft bedding.

Bilbo had to fight down his desire to step inside and right their blanket or fluff their pillows, but he realized that he might disturb the exhausted boys. He even left the empty mugs standing on their bedside table. Tomorrow he would retrieve and clean them, but for tonight, the lingering scent of the chocolate might calm his dear dwarrows enough to sleep through the night.

When he passed Thorin’s door he hesitated for another moment. Although his friend had surely had a wonderful evening, finally getting news from the mountain and seeing old friends again, he was surprised to hear noises of distress emerging from the room. Carefully he opened the door to peek inside.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When he had gone to bed, Thorin had felt content and happy. But the longer he lay on the soft mattress, with sleep eluding him, the more the talk he had had with Balin in the kitchen pushed to the surface of his mind. Why had his old friend asked him if he loved Bilbo? Why had he looked upon him so knowingly in the living room? It was utterly ridiculous for Thorin to fall in love with someone who was by his side only out of a sense of responsibility.

But then he thought of Bilbo, his copper locks in the firelight, his warm, golden eyes that shone like the sun when the hobbit was happy, his silent feet and his swift hands, his utterly caring character, his adoration for Thorin’s nephews and his fierce anger when someone threatened something he held dear, be it Bag End or his dwarrows. It was not love he felt, it was just … friendship. And …

His body answered the question for him, because memories of Bilbo inevitably brought up recollections of their night together. How cunning the little hobbit had been. He hadn’t laughed at Thorin for his lack of experience. Thorin felt disturbed by his inability to explain his emotions and his physical reactions to the hobbit. He desired to be close to him, to touch him and be touched by him whenever they were together. His entire life he had been content being alone, but now he longed for Bilbo’s presence every waking moment. When at Bag End, the need to touch the hobbit was nearly overwhelming, and when he was working at the forge, he was constantly looking forward to lunch or the end of the day when he would see Bilbo again.

Unsurprisingly Thorin’s hand had travelled under his covers, touching his growing flesh that remembered Bilbo’s nearness so easily on his own. Squirming in the light of a single candle, the dwarf felt too hot all the sudden, so he pushed his blanket and furs away, allowing himself unrestricted access to his own body.

He shivered when he remembered Bilbo’s lips on his chest. He gently trailed the path his hobbit had followed with his fingertips, evoking goosebumps in the process. Skilled fingers had touched his thighs and opened them, to make room for the hobbits smaller frame. Thorin sighed at the memory and repeated his actions from several nights ago. The tender lips and the maddening tongue had teased his hot flesh; Thorin couldn’t mirror these sensations, so he simply gripped his erected cock and worked it with urgent strokes.

Nothing the dwarf could do to himself would ever come close to what Bilbo had done to him that night. But his tingling flesh demanded attention and he simply couldn’t keep his hands by his side. Not when he was already burning with the memories of his fiancé.

The name of his hobbit on his lips like a longing prayer, the dwarf began to stroke himself faster, touching his thighs and balls to recreate even a small part of his hobbit’s fondling. His release was drawing nearer and he could hear himself whimper, so he closed his eyes tight and moaned the name of his lover, “Bilbo,” to share himself with the hobbit, even if it was only in his fantasies.

 

And what a hot picture Bilbo got from that little peek. Unable to pull back, although the hobbit was well aware that Thorin might prefer privacy, Bilbo watched his fiancé pleasuring himself. Completely taken aback when he heard his name falling from his dwarf’s lips, Bilbo entered the room and closed the door silently.

So Thorin wanted him. Then why hadn’t his dwarf approached him? Bilbo had begged him to voice his wishes, but obviously Thorin had been unable to do so. With a mischievous gleam in his eyes, Bilbo answered the feverish words, “Yes, Thorin?”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin froze. His release now so close that his whole body was shivering with desire, he opened his eyes and turned his face towards the door. Bilbo was there, leaning against the wood casually, with his arms folded, eyes sparkling when he took in the frame of his flushed body. The hobbit was the perfect picture of relaxation, and Thorin felt his face and upper body burn up with shame.

What would his fiancé think about him, when he was pleasuring himself like that, instead of approaching him like they had discussed? Embarrassed by the thought of Bilbo seeing him like this, he tried to hide his eyes under his lower arm. The hobbit had offered his teaching and proven how experienced he was, and yet Thorin hadn’t gone to him, but instead had taken matters into his own hands, quite literally. Would a respectable man do such a thing? Maybe Bilbo was disgusted by this open display of wantonness.

 

Immediately Bilbo noticed that Thorin was terribly embarrassed about the whole situation, and not the good kind of embarrassment, because his erection wilted. The dwarf even tried to cover himself with a blanket or a fur, but having thrown all of them off the bed, he could only use one of his cushions, to hide himself – at least partially – from Bilbo’s watchful eyes.

Even in the dim light of a single candle, the hobbit could see the shame in his fiancé’s eyes. What was Thorin expecting from him now? That he would berate his dwarf for pleasuring himself? Truly Thorin looked like a tween caught in the act by his father during a private moment. Pleasuring oneself was the most natural thing to do for a healthy male. Though, most would rather take the chance and share their bed when offered, than take care of their needs all alone. So the hobbit felt slightly at a loss what to do.

But when Thorin seemed ready to bolt, Bilbo stepped away from the door and prompted, “Could you please blow out the candle?”

Several guest rooms were on the inner circle of the smial, therefore they didn’t possess any windows. Regarding that his guests were dwarrows, Bilbo had chosen these rooms on purpose, because he had thought them preferring absolute darkness over chirping birds and early sunshine in the morning. So the room was completely dark now, and Bilbo was only able to manoeuvre in it because he knew his own home by heart.

 

Thorin was partially grateful when Bilbo asked him to extinguish the candle, so he was not forced to suffer Bilbo’s scrutinizing gaze any more. But his overbearing shame did not vanish with the light. Surely they needed to talk, although his hobbit obviously didn’t want to look at him, because of what he had done. Thorin shivered a little, when the mattress dipped beside his hip. He could feel the warm body of Bilbo beside his own and immediately tried to shift aside, to give the hobbit more space and spare him the physical contact.

 

But Bilbo obviously had other plans, because as soon as he felt his future husband moving away, he put his hand on Thorin’s thigh. He did feel the body beneath his fingers flinch noticeably, but he allowed the dwarf to get used to his touch before begging, “Don’t … please, Thorin. Don’t move away from me.” This wouldn’t do. Thorin shying away when it came to intimacy simply wasn’t acceptable, so Bilbo decided to do something about it.

The hobbit started to caress Thorin’s upper leg, moving higher to the junction where it met the dwarf’s hip. Still he could feel his dwarf shivering under his touch. Calmly the hobbit slid onto the bed completely, putting his legs to rest beside Thorin’s upper body. The one closest to the dwarf was raised a bit, leaning casually against his chest, while the other, closer to the end of the bed, lay relaxed and straight. Bilbo reached for his dwarf’s arm. Rubbing soothing circles over the outside of his fiancés hip with one hand, he let the other hand gently trail a path from the dwarf’s shoulder to his hand. Only to find it desperately clutched around the pillow that still covered Thorin’s lap.

Gently prying the clasped fingers away from the pillow, Bilbo placed them on the shank of his bent leg, so that the dwarf was securing Bilbo by his side. Then the hobbit nudged away the soft fabric that was covering Thorin’s lower body.

Toying, Bilbo trailed over Thorin’s hips and slowly allowed his hand to travel towards the centre. While Thorin had gone completely limp when Bilbo had caught him, his body obviously remembered Bilbo’s soft touch and reacted to it. Thorin enclosed Bilbo’s ankle in a vice-like grip to have something to hold on to and arched a little into the hobbit’s stimulating caress. Bilbo was quite sure that his dwarf’s eyes were closed again, as he whispered the same word as before, only with much more longing in his voice, “Bilbo …”

Taking his time to entertain his lover for several moments, gently gripping engorged flesh, circling the plum head of Thorin’s erection, spreading the warm fluids the dwarf’s body produced in abundance over his cock, Bilbo took his time with the answer, “Yes, Thorin … I am here.”

 

Gripping Bilbo’s leg tighter, the dwarf forced himself to apologize, although it was quite hard to think past the haze Bilbo was conjuring with his experienced strokes. And while they did not differ very much from Thorin’s own touches – maybe an occasional twist of the wrist, or a nudging at his balls – the effect was manifold. Thorin’s body reacted to Bilbo in a way it had never done before.

So his voice was hoarse with passion when the dwarf said, “I am so very sorry, Bilbo, I … by Mahal … please don’t stop … I … I should have come to you … I … oh god …” Thorin was arching his erection into Bilbo’s touch and nearly lifted himself of the bed in the process. The pleasure Bilbo was awakening in his body was mind-numbing. And though the hobbit’s movement was far too slow and too superficial to allow him any release, Thorin was unable to back away from them.

 

Using his other hand to gently draw patterns over Thorin’s chest, toying with the dwarf’s sensitive nipples while stimulating his cock with languid strokes, Bilbo asked gently, “Then why did you not come to me, lover?” He felt a shift of the body beside him at that question, but still held on to Thorin’s erection, so that the dwarf would not retreat completely.

When the movement stopped, Bilbo let go and started to caress the inside of his dwarf’s strong thighs. Bending over to place a tender kiss on Thorin’s chest, Bilbo asked, “Please, tell me why you wouldn’t come if you so clearly desire me? Especially after everything that has happened between us.”

 

Calmed by the tender touches, Thorin released Bilbo’s ankle and hesitantly started to fondle under the hobbit’s trouser-leg. He couldn’t see Bilbo’s face at the caress and as long as the hobbit didn’t say anything or drew back, he could convince himself that his touch was welcome. But still his voice was small and ashamed when he admitted, “Because I wasn’t sure if you wanted me. And I couldn’t bring myself to face your rejection.”

 

Bilbo huffed annoyed and used his hand on Thorin’s leg to land a slap on the dwarf’s inner thigh. And although the dwarf hissed at the sting, he didn’t pull back; on the contrary, he gripped Bilbo’s leg tighter and arched into the contact. Amused by the reaction, but still angered by the answer, Bilbo scolded, “By everything that is sacred, Thorin, I took you in my mouth. How much more proof do you need that I desire you?”

Nudging Thorin’s legs further apart, something that seemingly happened on its own accord, Bilbo gently rubbed over the skin he had marked, before returning to the middle, gently fondling his dwarf’s balls, before trailing up towards the head of the cock and enclosing it with a light grip once again.

 

Thorin shifted on the bed, but not to retreat from Bilbo, but to get closer to him. His hand worked itself further up Bilbo’s leg, at least as far as the fabric allowed, and held onto his partner to ground himself through the caresses that made his head swim.

Arching at a particular strong grip on his erection, Thorin realized that Bilbo was still waiting for an answer. But Thorin could only shake his head empathically, admitting in a desperate voice, “I … I don’t know … please, Bilbo, … I didn’t know how to approach you … I wasn’t … oh god!”

Hissing loudly when Bilbo added another, particular stimulating twist to his casual caresses, Thorin curled towards the hobbit, so that his forehead rested against Bilbo’s raised knee. His hot, moist breath ghosted over the outside seam of the hobbit’s trouser and his shivering became more prominent, with every passing minute.

His hobbit stroked his body towards an inevitable orgasm and Thorin wasn’t able to deal with these overwhelming feelings on his own. Never before had anybody done anything like this to him. Never before had he experienced something even remotely comparable by himself.

His arm wrapped itself around Bilbo’s leg for dear life, while his other hand returned to the hobbit’s ankle, enclosing it once more for support. His lower body was shifting all by itself now, pushing into Bilbo’s grip urgently and demanding more and more attention.

 

But Bilbo was not finished with his lover. They had talked about this, talked about being open and honest with each other. But Thorin was still holding back, out of fear or insecurity, it didn’t matter. So Bilbo dragged his right hand through Thorin’s hair and held onto the dwarves head, pulling him back slightly. Thorin arched in the hobbit’s grip when Bilbo whispered into his ear, “You won’t do this again. If you feel desire you will come to me. No matter when, no matter where! We will work this out together, promise me!”

 

Too far gone to protest, too far gone to even think, Thorin nodded as far as Bilbo’s grip allowed it. His affirmation was feverish when he answered, “Yes … I will. Bilbo … by Mahal … I promise, I will … PLEASE!”

 

Satisfied with the answer, although he was more than aware that he had forced it out of his fiancé through the most unfair circumstances, Bilbo lowered his head and vigorously invaded his dwarf’s mouth. Speeding up his ministrations, Bilbo effectively swallowed every groan and whimper that escaped Thorin, when the dwarf shuddered in the throes of his orgasm, clinging onto his hobbit for dear life.

Both shared one breath, when the dwarf was slowly coming down from his peak, shivering in Bilbo’s arms. But the hobbit just crouched closer to him, enveloping him with his arms and legs to the best of his abilities. When Thorin buried his face in the crook of Bilbo’s neck, the hobbit could once more feel hot tears drenching his skin. But having experienced this reaction with his fiancé before, the hobbit was not overly worried. He simply rocked Thorin in his arms, stroking his head and back soothingly.

 

It took Thorin longer than last time to come down again. Maybe because their last encounter had been preceded by an emotional outbreak and he simply hadn’t had a lot of strength left, or because this one had been so unexpected for him. He had anticipated at least some kind of pleasure when he had approached his hobbit the first time. But tonight Bilbo had taken him completely by surprise, and he still had to come to terms with the easy acceptance his fiancé was showing towards his desires.

When Bilbo finally drew back Thorin let go reluctantly. But still Bilbo’s voice was close when the hobbit asked again, “So you will come to me, promised? Don’t keep this part of you to yourself. We can explore this together, find pleasure with each other. You only have to allow it.”

Thorin nodded, but soon realized the futility of the gesture, the room was completely dark after all, not even a fire was burning due to the summer heat. “I promise, Bilbo. I’m just … this … all of this is new to me.”

Thorin felt a gentle kiss on his forehead and heard the assurance, “I realize that, lover … just come to me and we will figure this out.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When Bilbo rose from the bed, he felt a callused hand on his arm. Thorin’s voice was low when he begged, “Don’t leave me alone again. Please.”

In that very moment Bilbo felt his heart breaking. How could someone so regal and so strong sound so small when it came to the things he wanted? No, even worse, when it came to the things he obviously needed!

Why did his future husband feel the obligation to beg for something, that he could simply ask for? Bilbo’s voice was unbelieving when he inquired, “Thorin, why …,” but he stopped himself in the middle of his question.

It was not important why Thorin thought that Bilbo would leave him. So he just bent down and gave his dwarf another small kiss before promising, “I will just change into my nightshirt. I will be with you in an instant.” After a moment of hesitation, Bilbo felt Thorin nod and then his arm was released.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin sank back against the pillows. After a heartbeat he turned towards his bedside table, and ignited the candle once more. He realized now that Bilbo had not asked him to extinguish it because he had been ashamed of Thorin’s actions, but because he had wanted to make their interaction easier for the dwarf. And it had worked. It had been so much simpler to give in to his physical desires and be honest with Bilbo, when he could not feel the inquisitive eyes of his hobbit on him.

Cleaning himself with a wet cloth, a little embarrassed because Bilbo would have to do the same, he collected the blanket and furs that usually warmed him at night and draped them over his bed once again. Crawling under them, he felt the warmth seep into his bones, tiring him. Desperately he held onto consciousness because he was afraid that Bilbo would not approach him if he found him fast asleep.

But his worries were unfounded, as after a little while he was woken from a light doze when Bilbo extinguished the candle from his bedside table and crawled under the covers by his side. When the hobbit turned around, Thorin resumed his usual sleeping place with his head on the hobbit’s chest, and his arm and leg wound around the smaller body by his side. He froze when his thigh brushed over Bilbo’s pelvis and he felt a noticeable erection there.

But instead of doing something about it, his hobbit just gently petted his neck, kissing his hair one last time and revealed in a low voice, “Yes, I enjoyed that; more than you can imagine. But now sleep, my sweet. There will be ample time tomorrow night to explore this together.”

And while Thorin lowered his leg a little, so as not to crowd Bilbo’s body, he kept looking into the darkness for a very long time. Bilbo’s even breaths were almost hypnotic, and his gentle fingers fell away from his neck as soon as slumber took the hobbit. But Bilbo’s last promise and even more the endearment he had used for Thorin through this evening’s encounter were enough to take the dwarven prince’s breath away and rob him of his sleep.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	28. Arrangements for day and night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having reached an agreement with Thorin of how to proceed, other dwarrows to need to learn what a hobbit things is appropriate in his own home.  
> The next night Bilbo will find out that sharing the bed of another person is not as restfull as he thought it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again a chapter where a picture is included. Kaci gave me permission to post it.  
> You can find the original picture here: http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/41259376346.  
> You should really check out her drawings because honestly girls, she is quite amazing!

Bilbo couldn’t keep himself from smiling when he woke the next morning, wrapped up in the strong arms of his dwarf. When he tried to slide off the bed, Thorin held him even closer for a moment. But reluctantly he let go when Bilbo gently kissed him on the head and whispered that he was supposed to make breakfast.

The dwarf realized that he couldn’t confine his hobbit to his room, no matter how much he wanted to. But they could enjoy the early morning hour in peaceful silence during first breakfast. So he went to the bathroom to freshen up. He nearly barked out in laughter when he realized how unruly his hair was, but on the other hand, he had done quite some tossing and turning last night. Carefully combing through it, making himself representable, he dressed before entering the kitchen.

This time he didn’t allow any awkward silence to come up between him and his hobbit. Instead he stepped up to Bilbo’s smaller frame and buried his face in Bilbo’s hair, while enveloping his fiancé from behind. For a moment the hobbit allowed the gesture, leaning into him and nuzzling into the embrace. But all too soon the kettle whistled and they broke apart. Thorin took up a dish towel and lifted the heavy kettle from the stove to fill the tea-pot, while Bilbo shifted a patch of scones into his oven. Licking his lips at the prospect of having fresh scones for breakfast, Thorin tried to grab the bowl and sample the remaining dough, but Bilbo just laughed and batted him away.

“You better get the jam and clotted cream from the pantry, I will make sure that the scones will not burn. Off you go, you thieving dwarf.” Bilbo’s voice was relaxed and happy when he shooed Thorin away and started to set the table.

“What is our future king stealing from you?” Dwalin’s voice was deep and still laced with sleep when he entered the kitchen after Thorin had left.

“Good morning, Dwalin. He tried to nick scone dough, but I prevented it, so that Fíli and Kíli, too, will get fresh ones at second breakfast. Is your brother already awake?” Bilbo started to look around the massive frame of his newest guest, but couldn’t spot the old dwarf in the warrior’s shadow. So he gestured for Dwalin to pick up some cutlery and knives, while he prepared the cups for the table.

Dwalin followed the unspoken command and arranged everything on the clean surface and shook his head. “No, Balin had … he worked a lot in advance of our arrival and we travelled hard to get here as soon as possible. Today is the first day in months that he has nowhere to be but here. No diplomats to receive, no king to advise and no princes to teach. If it would be alright with you, Master Baggins, I would like to allow him to sleep in a little. The last few months were draining on him.”

Worried about the old dwarf Bilbo asked, “Bilbo … you promised to call me Bilbo when we are among us. Did so much happen after Thorin’s and Fíli and Kíli’s departure?”

Bilbo realized that Thorin had returned to the kitchen, but the dwarven prince still stood in the doorway, not risking interrupting his friend’s explanation by making himself known.

Yet Dwalin simply shook his head and sank onto the bench. He looked at the neatly set table and the rich kitchen, where there was food in every corner. A big loaf of bread stood on the counter, covered in linen so that it wouldn’t dry out. A whole bowl of apples sat on the windowsill, seemingly free for anybody who had the desire to sink his teeth into one of the ripe, red, deliciously sweet fruits. Bilbo was making scones and judging from the cookies over the fireplace he wasn’t rationing his provisions.

Confronted with such riches the dwarf simply shook his head and admitted, “Nothing that had not been happening for the last three years. Our harvest is meagre and our trade is … well I assume you know the state of the trade between the Shire and the Blue Mountains better than anyone. King Thráin was worrying constantly about the outcome of his son’s and grandsons’ mission here and of course about …”

Dwalin trailed off and avoided Bilbo’s gaze so the hobbit had a very good impression on what had worried the King Under the Mountain for the weeks prior. Gently he put his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder to comfort him when finishing the sentence for him without any hint of accusation, “And of course he was worried about an angry and vengeful hobbit who might mistreat his family. All the while knowing that the thain had not given him another choice, but to offer his family for the potential mistreatment. … Am I right?”

Dwalin only nodded and Bilbo looked at Thorin sadly. Hand still soothingly rubbing over Dwalin’s arm, his voice was a mere whisper when he said, “We should have written earlier. At least to let your father know, that you were not humiliated and abused in Hobbiton.” Looking at his fiancé, Bilbo couldn’t help but remember how gloomy, sometimes even anxious his dwarrows had been over the first weeks of summer, so he had to ask, “You weren’t … right?”

Now it was Thorin’s turn to comfort the other. Stepping into the kitchen, putting away the food he had been sent to fetch, he embraced Bilbo and patted the hobbit’s back comfortingly, assuring him at the same time, “No, we really were not. True, you had us working for you, but you allowed us to do so with dignity and our pride intact. I was grateful to work in a forge once again and I felt better there every day, as soon as the Shirelings started to accept me. And you know that Fíli and Kíli adore the Chubb-Bagginses. So don’t worry, Bilbo. Whatever you did, you couldn’t have done it any better.”

“I will write to father today after breakfast. Tell him how things are, and that will bring peace to his mind. At least until the first caravan arrives at the Blue Mountains,” Thorin assured Bilbo and Dwalin alike before letting the hobbit go, smiling down at him.

After that subject was settled, breakfast returned to being a calm and relaxing affair. It did not go as silently as Bilbo and Thorin’s usual first meal, because Dwalin kept stealing scone after scone until nearly none were left, and was scolded for it by Thorin. But the hobbit placated his guests with the assurance that he would simply make more for Balin, Fíli and Kíli.

After breakfast Thorin asked for a piece of parchment and a quill and sat down to work on a letter for the King, while Dwalin and Bilbo took care of the cleaning up and after that shared a smoke in the early morning sun.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When second breakfast came and Balin still hadn’t shown up, Bilbo asked Fíli to get the elderly dwarf. Missing first breakfast was alright, but missing the second one was nothing the hobbit would have in his own home – especially because he suspected that the two of them would have a lot of work to do, so that he was afraid they would miss elevensies altogether. So it was better to indulge in the food while there was still time to do so, and before the Durins had to be off to work. But the blond boy just came back and sat down with the announcement, “He says he is not hungry yet, having had such an opulent dinner.”

The boys didn’t seem to think anything of it but Bilbo suspected that the elderly dwarf was still deciding on instinct, rather than by conscious choice. When food was scarce, one would keep oneself from it until eating was absolutely necessary. But that definitely was something that was needed here. Not in Bag End, where there was food aplenty, no sir, definitely not!

“Where is he storming off?” asked Dwalin in a rather confused voice.

After rescuing a falling scone from his younger nephew’s plate, Thorin answered absent-mindedly, while swatting Kíli over the head for not taking better care of his food, “Fetching your brother of course.”

“But why, Fíli said …”

Dwalin was interrupted by his future king who clarified with a smile, “Because Balin is acting as if he is still in the mountains, so he doesn’t want to take more than is absolutely necessary. But that’s not Bilbo’s belief of how things should go in his smial. So he is having a word with your brother.”

Confused Dwalin looked at Thorin who was nibbling on some fruits, before returning to his own plate where there lay fruits and nuts in various forms.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo found the elderly dwarf in the garden, enjoying the morning light, going over some papers. Silently he stepped up to him and even made Balin jump a little when he spoke, “Breakfast is ready, Councillor. I am sure your duties can wait for a few minutes.”

Looking at host with a gentle smile, Balin shook his head and stated, “Thank you, lad, but you served a really generous dinner. So breakfast will not be necessary.”

Shaking his head at the comment, Bilbo gently put his smaller hand on the rich, deep-red waistcoat his guest was wearing. Only when the dwarf was looking up did Bilbo repeat the motion and stated in a low voice, “You are no longer in the Blue Mountains, Master Balin. Starving yourself on their behalf will achieve nothing. We will do our very best to help your people, but only after you have had breakfast with all of us.

“You are an experienced diplomat, are you not? When with hobbits, isn’t it better to behave like one, if even for a little while, until you have their sympathy?” Bilbo looked at the other male with a tilted head and a smile on his lips to comfort the other.

After a moment’s hesitation the smile was mirrored and the quill Balin had been holding placed aside. With a little smirk the dwarf asked, “Don’t I already have your sympathy, Master Baggins? You have proven yourself considerate and an excellent host yesterday. I couldn’t assume that you needed me to appease you today.”

Laughing Bilbo stepped back and put his thumbs behind his suspenders, rocking on the balls of his feet, and admitted, “If I told you that I expect you to, would you follow me to the kitchen and have breakfast with us?”

“Of course I would. I wouldn’t want to anger my host,” came a reply that was accompanied by a wink from the old dwarf.

Delighted, Bilbo clarified, “In that case I will expect you to appease me several times today. Now please follow me, Master Balin. Let’s see if the boys have left any scones for us.”

After an affirming bow, the dwarf followed his host into the kitchen, and together all the dwarrows had breakfast under the watchful eyes of their hobbit, so that they wouldn’t lack anything.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo had been right when thinking that Balin and he would miss elevensies. They were even terribly late for lunch, because they walked to town with a picnic-basket in hand, to supply Dwalin and Thorin with a midday meal. All through the meal the huge warrior was telling his brother about the various tools Thorin had been making over the summer, some of which the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains hadn’t even heard about.

It was a joyful and entertaining lunch before Balin and Bilbo bade them farewell again. The eldest son of Fundin didn’t miss the slight look of regret in the prince’s eyes when Bilbo collected his things and left the forge. But they needed to get a first estimation of how much corn, flour, fruits and other provisions could be bought in Hobbiton, to decide if they needed to expand their search for provisions to the other farthings of the Shire.

There were several hundred dwarrows living in the Blue Mountains at that point. Feeding them all, all through the winter, would be a monumental task.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

All through the afternoon and way after dinner – something the Durins provided them with – they sat over papers, calculations and suggestions of how to transport the goods.

Bilbo had nearly fainted when he had heard how much was really needed; his own calculations had not been that far off. But inevitably he found himself overwhelmed by the task at hand. Only when Balin promised that he would call for more help from the mountains did Bilbo relax a little and felt his nervousness recede.

Thorin had been right. The dwarrows of the Blue Mountains indeed seemed to be extremely grateful for the hobbits’ help. Now, with Balin at his side and assuring him of their help, Bilbo felt considerably calmer when he thought of their task.

It was long after midnight when they both rose from their seats in Bilbo’s study. Tired and exhausted, they bade each other good-night before retreating to their respective rooms. Only when Bilbo crawled between the covers, after he had swiftly washed his hands and feet, clad in his nightshirt already, did he get the feeling that something was missing. Like he had forgotten something really important, but it eluded him, whenever he tried to reach for the thought.

 

He was shivering slightly between the cool blankets, looking into the light of the wandering moon, when slowly a smile spread across his lips. Of course he had forgotten something. But that special something would not be found in his room. Sliding out of bed, Bilbo reached for the candle, but then thought better of it. This was his home, he didn’t need any light to know his way. And he didn’t want to wake anybody anyway.

Noiselessly he made his way to the guestroom closest to his own and silently opened the door. No sound betrayed his arrival, and yet his dwarven prince seemed to sense his presence, because as soon as Bilbo had stepped to the bed he heard small noises from his dwarf, who angled his body towards the newcomer. Contently the hobbit slid between the covers and was instantly enveloped by strong arms. He heard Thorin’s drowsy voice mumbling, “Bilbo …” while rubbing his head on the hobbits chest.

But Bilbo just closed his arms around his fiancé and kissed him on the head, speaking under his breath, “Everything is alright, just go back to sleep.”

He really had to strain his ears to hear the low whisper, when Thorin admitted, “I wasn’t sure you would come.”

Gently caressing his dwarf’s hair, the hobbit promised, “I will not leave you alone again. I promised you that. Now sleep. It’s very late.”

Contently wrapped around each other, the couple now closed their eyes and both were lost in dreams a few moments later.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

It was that very night that Bilbo realized that his time with Thorin would not be as recreative as the sleeping hours should be. Not being exhausted but slightly worried when going to bed, Thorin tossed and turned more often that night than ever before.

Bilbo woke up at every turn. Partially because the dwarf still was using his chest as a pillow, but mainly because his limbs just locked around the hobbit’s body, as if the sleeping dwarf were afraid to lose him. Usually Bilbo just moved his fingers through the dark strands and whispered soothing words into Thorin’s hair. His touch and his voice seemed to calm the dwarf immediately, so within minutes Bilbo was able to doze off again.

That changed however in the darkest hour of the night. Thorin had stopped moving about an hour ago, after Bilbo had been able to dispel a particularly persistent nightmare. But now something had awokened the hobbit anew. He tried to reach for his lover, calm his agitated limbs, only to realize that the dwarf wasn’t latched onto him anymore.

Confused about the source of the disturbance, Bilbo sat up and listened for a while, until he realized that it nonetheless had come from an unmoving but still stressed-out Thorin. The dwarf was whimpering slightly and lay dead still at Bilbo’s side, curled into a ball, as if shielding himself from an unseen attacker. Thorin’s breath was strained and when Bilbo reached for his partner’s forehead, he realized that the dwarf was sweating profusely.

This time, however, Bilbo’s touch didn’t calm Thorin down, the opposite happened. The dwarf gave a choked cry and desperately lashed out. Fearing this reaction, Bilbo had already shifted a little to the side, so when Thorin swung, he only needed to bend a little to keep the dwarf from hitting him, this time.

But the nightmare seemed to have his dwarf firmly in his clutches because after this useless attack, Thorin started to shiver profoundly and Bilbo thought that he even heard repressed sobs. Unwilling to let this get any further, Bilbo ignited the candle at the bedside-table and removed his nightshirt, twisting it into a makeshift rope, and swiftly put it over Thorin’s torso, trapping the dwarf’s arms at his side, demanding, “Thorin, wake up! You are having a nightmare. Please, you have to wake up!”

Struggling to restrain the agitated dwarf, Bilbo only relaxed when he saw Thorin looking at him. The dwarf’s eyes were haunted and scared, but clear, so that the hobbit drew back and took a relieved breath. Untwisting his shirt, he used it to dab Thorin’s face and upper body, to wipe away the sweat, before putting the stressed fabric aside.

 

When the shivering had stopped, Thorin sat up on the bed. He was aware that nightmares plagued him occasionally, but till now he had burdened only himself. However, with Bilbo by his side, two people were robbed of their sleep, when horrible memories surfaced in his mind.

“I have woken you again, haven’t I?” Thorin was more than aware that Bilbo had soothed him several times during the night. He couldn’t remember much of it, but he did recall soft fingers trailing through his hair and a soothing voice chasing the frightening images away. But this time seemed to be worse, because until now Bilbo had never lit a candle.

The hobbit, on the other hand, really didn’t seem to care about that being woken; instead he was reaching once more for his tired lover and asked, “What did you dream about?”

“Moria,” Thorin’s voice was barely above whisper when he answered. The memories of Moria were always the worst. The battle had been hard and he had lost so many people he had loved there.

His grandfather had died that day and his father had lost his mind – at least for a little while – leaving him to decide the fate of an entire kingdom. His brother had been lost and his sister’s husband as well. Balin and Dwalin’s father – his arms master for so many years – had lost his life there too, leaving his two sons and countless other warriors grieving. So much death and so much blood and still, years later, Thorin asked himself if he could have done anything to prevent all of the bloodshed.

Being at least generally familiar with this tale, Bilbo didn’t ask any further questions; instead he dragged a slightly reluctant Thorin back into the shelter of his arms. There was nothing he could say to make this right, no words of comfort he could offer because, ‘It’s going to be alight,’ was such a blatant lie. Bilbo would disgrace neither Thorin nor himself by uttering it. Lives had been lost during that battle, lives that could never been brought back.

Bilbo himself had been forced to learn just recently that it was of no use to look back and allow the past to swallow him up. Nothing he said did or thought would ever bring back his parents, just like nothing would bring back Thorin’s family. They both could just live their lives each day, doing their very best to honour their ancestors’ memories.

When Thorin finally calmed a little, wrapping himself tighter around Bilbo, one last thought occurred to the hobbit and finally he knew what to tell Thorin, to soothe his agitated mind. He whispered to his fiancé in a calm voice, “Thorin, listen to me: I will not leave you. I am a hobbit, we do not fight. I can assure you that you will never, ever lose me, like you have lost them.”

His dwarf’s voice was so low that Bilbo had to strain himself to hear the question, when Thorin asked in a small voice, “Promise?”

Smiling a little, Bilbo pulled his dwarf even closer and assured him, “Promise!”

The candle on the bedside table still bathed the chamber in a golden glow when the two of them succumbed to sleep once again. This time, they were blessed with a dreamless slumber until the late hours of the morning.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	29. Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As we are approaching the end of Act 3, we need a little drama to spice things up.  
> Here you will learn that not all hobbits of the Shire have such a positive opinion on Bilbo's dwarrows as the majority.  
> For those of you who don't like the drama and the angst, just bear with me on that one. I promise to you: the solution will be worth the problem! Trust me, I'm the author.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the extended warnings. Especially for this chapter.

The next week passed more or less in the same fashion. The only difference was that Bilbo moved a part of Thorin’s things into his own bedroom, trousers after they had been washed, shirts after they had been ironed. Neither the dwarf nor the hobbit spoke about that arrangement, but the next evening Bilbo found Thorin in his own bed – just like he had hoped – and it was a little easier for him to rouse the dwarf from his nightmares, probably due to the different environment.

Bilbo’s room was spacious and furnished with wood, drapes and blankets in warm and light colours. The open window allowed a more intense breeze than the chimney of the fireplace of the guestroom and most importantly, everything felt and smelled like Bilbo around here. So Thorin had calmer nights here than even in his own rooms in the Blue Mountains. A part of him seemed to believe that there was no safer place in all Middle-Earth, so he rested easier here than anywhere else.

So gradually something like a routine settled in. Sadly it left the engaged pair with close to no time for each other. Bilbo fell into bed bone-tired every evening, but Thorin still clang onto him gratefully. He missed being intimate with is fiancé but he wouldn’t press the issue when his hobbit was working so hard on behalf of his people.

Yet Thorin felt a little more agitated every day and caught himself thinking of Bilbo more often than not. He even tried to come up with a way to separate his hobbit from his work, so that they could spend time together. Not eating and sleeping side by side, but really spending time together. The end of the summer was drawing inevitably nearer, and until now they hadn’t even had the time to talk about Thorin’s potential return to the Blue Mountains, or whether Bilbo would accompany him.

Then there was the matter of organising their wedding. Thorin had always envisioned himself, having a ceremony among familiar faces in his Mountain. But having witnessed a ceremony in the Shire, the dwarf was aware that the hobbits were perfectly capable of arranging a wedding in Hobbiton and fulfilling the demands of the contract here. Though Thorin didn’t like the thought of getting married without his family, he was also aware that he could do nothing if Bilbo decided so. He was bound to his future husband’s side, whatever he may choose. So he went through his days, worrying more and more about an unknown future that drew nearer so unavoidably.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin was used that, with the exception of his deliveries, he would spend his days with Dwalin at his side now. Today however, the sons of Fundin had other affairs to attend to. Dwalin wanted to inspect carriages they could buy or rent for the deliveries to the Blue Mountains, and afterwards Balin wanted them to talk to the thain. The thain of the Shire had spent one afternoon during the last week catching catch up on the preparations. He had been polite and friendly, so Dwalin had been forced to revise yet another opinion on a hobbit, because the Old Took had shown himself as a decent person instead of an arrogant and biased ruler the dwarf had thought him to be. Therefore the warrior was more than willing to accompany his brother.

 

Now that it was close to noon, Thorin was looking forward to spending some time alone with his fiancé. Bilbo would be here within the next hour because no matter how busy the hobbit had been during the last few days, he had not once forgotten about Thorin’s lunch. Therefore the dwarven-smith smiled when he felt small arms enveloping him from behind. He leaned onto the anvil, when they started to caress his chest, enjoying the touch. He had missed Bilbo so much, and the tender caresses surely meant that his hobbit felt the same way.

When he tried to turn around, he felt the arms flexing around his belly, and he heard a hoarsely whispered, “Don’t,” from behind. Exhaling heavily when skilled fingers travelled lower, Thorin closed his eyes and snuggled into the arms of his hobbit. He wanted to turn around, to get a chance to kiss Bilbo, but the hot breath that ghosted over his back told him that his partner would be too small anyway to share a kiss with him while standing. That’s why he had enjoyed the lovemaking in bed so much. It was easier to bend and arrange oneself, to be able to reach each other’s mouths’, when lying down.

Small, slightly callused fingers, started to fondle his growing erection, gently pulling it free from the constraints of his trousers. And though Thorin had a strange feeling – they were in his forge, somebody could enter any moment; surely Bilbo didn’t want someone to …

His thoughts were dispelled by a cunning twist of said hand on his engorged shaft. He hissed audibly and leaned onto the anvil for balance. Experienced fingers stroked him insistently and Thorin felt his orgasm drawing closer with embarrassing swiftness.

“By Mahal … oh god … please, don’t stop,” moving his pelvis in tune with the strokes, Thorin clenched his fingers around the worn steel in front of him. He wanted to turn around, to wrap himself around Bilbo, to bury his face in the golden locks and inhale the fragrance that was so uniquely his hobbit, but he wasn’t sure if his legs would support him if he tried to move now.

His jaw was clenched to swallow the shout that tried to escape him, forcing out a plea, between gritted teeth, “Oh gods yes … just like that … yesss!”

 

“You can’t be serious.” Bilbo’s deadpan voice penetrated the haze that clouded his mind. When Thorin opened his eyes, he saw his hobbit standing at the entrance of the forge, lunch basket in his hand.

It took Thorin’s mind half a heartbeat to come up with the inevitable conclusion: if Bilbo was standing at the door then the hobbit behind him … His mind went blazing white when his defiler pumped his cock with one more, particularly stimulating twist, and forced an orgasm from his painfully aroused body.

Falling to his knees in the middle of the forge, Thorin left his ravisher and Bilbo at eye-level. Shaking his head forcefully he tried to clear away the drowsiness, so that he could contribute to their exchange.

The hobbit behind his back accused Bilbo in a vicious voice, “That’s what happens when you get involved with these creatures. He was begging … BEGGING me to touch him. You heard him yourself. How can you take up with someone like that? They should never have come here, never tainted our village with their presence!”

Thorin tried to concentrate on Bilbo’s answer, fought to get up to redeem himself. But when he looked upon his hobbit, he just saw anger and terrible disappointment in his eyes. The basket fell from Bilbo’s fingertips and clattered to the floor, and from the sound of it, plates and glasses shattered inside.

Bilbo shook his head, clenched his fists and shouted at Thorin, “How could you? After everything I have done! How dare you?” The turned on his heel and stormed off without giving the dwarf a chance to explain himself.

 

When Thorin stood up and reached for his shirt he was aware that the strange hobbit was still with him. He wanted to say something, punish the vile creature, but he knew that a forceful intervention would only decrease his chances with Bilbo. So he looked into the cold, blue eyes of the strange hobbit and left the forge. Still he heard the small one shouting after him, “Best you run all the way back to the Blue Mountains! No one wants you here!”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Having talked with his dwarvish guests for nearly an hour, the thain was surprised to find Rose Underhill pounding on his door, as if wanting to knock it off its hinges. As she was let in, the lady-hobbit leaned over slightly to catch her breath and forced out between two pants, “There had been a fallout … at the forge … between Master Baggins and … and the smith. They were really ….  angry … like shouting and such … and I thought … I thought you should know because … because you invited them after all … and they are … are living with your … your grandson.”

Realizing that there already were two dwarrows at the Old Took’s home, Rose tried to curtsey, but stumbled slightly, so that Gerontius had to catch her. Rubbing her back soothingly, the Old Took looked at his guests. “We’d better get there. Bilbo rarely loses his composure so much that he raises his voice. Not since his parents had died. And …”

“They are no longer there, thain,” said Rose in a small voice. “Master Baggins stormed off. I don’t know where he went.”

Looking at the little Missus Underhill, Gerontius thought for a moment, but then nodded to himself. Ushering her out as gently as possible, he retreated into the depth of his smial.

 

Balin and Dwalin shot each other worried looks. What had happened that had angered Bilbo so much that he had shouted at Thorin? During the last week they had both gotten to know their hobbit as a kind and cheerful person. Something considerably upsetting must have happened; to make him lose is calm.

They both looked at the Old Took with big eyes, when he remerged with a wide piece of cloth wrapped around him. Only when he lowered his hands could they see a sturdy hobbit baby strapped to his front. The baby had dark hair and seemed to sleep peacefully, snuggled against the Old Took’s chest.

Realizing the surprise of his guests, Gerontius explained, “It will take some time until Adamanta returns from the marketplace. We will take him with us.”

“But I thought that your wife had your two children with her …” Dwalin’s voice was disbelieving when he took in the picture of the peaceful baby.

Nodding affirmatively, the Old Took clarified, “Yes, Adamanta has Donnamira and Mirabella with her. But that’s my youngest: Isengar. I’m afraid he will wake up shortly and we can’t leave him alone.”

Balin’s voice was reverent when he mused, “But that means, with Belladonna, you sired four children? Mahal has truly blessed you.”

Lowering his face, when the name of his dead daughter came up, to hide his grief, Gerontius shook his head, leaving the smial with the two dwarrows following him.

After a few minutes of walking he finally explained, “My beloved Belladonna was my fourth daughter, Donnamira and Mirabella were born after her. Isengar is my sixth son. So you see the Green Lady had blessed me twelve times over. But that still doesn’t make it any easier to lose one of them, be it child or grandchild.

“After the horrible death of his parents, Bilbo got very, very sick. I was at his bedside constantly and prayed for his survival every waking minute. And although my daughter had been taken from me, I thank all the gods of Middle-earth that they allowed me to keep her son by my side.

“I wish for nothing more than him being happy. And now we will see to it that whatever transpired between him and his fiancé, will be solved.” Arranging the sleeping child on his chest, the Old Took sped up his steps to reach Bag End as fast as possible.

 

The dwarrows staggered noticeably and they heard the Old Took talking about the number of his offspring. Twelve children! He had been blessed with twelve children! No dwarf in Middle-earth could EVER call so many children his own. Looking around, the sons of Fundin suddenly wondered why the entire continent wasn’t overrun with hobbits when they were so extremely fertile. But on the other hand, they were small and weak, and they could hardly protect themselves from the dangers of the wilderness. Surely it was better that they remained in the Shire, where they were safe and could raise their children in prosperity and peace.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

“… NO I REALLY DON’T UNDERSTAND. COULD YOU PLEASE ENLIGHTEN ME?!” Bilbo’s voice was echoing through Bag End when the Old Took and the two dwarrows entered the smial.

“I didn’t know that it wasn’t you.” Thorin stood in the living room, facing a hobbit that seemed to be so angry that his entire body shook.

“WHAT KIND OF STUPID EXCUSE IS THAT? OF COURSE YOU KNEW! We have spent every single night together for the last week. And now you want to convince me that you can’t tell the difference between Gentian’s touch and mine? Couldn’t you at least wait until we were back in the Blue Mountains until you took a lover? You have humiliated me in front of the entire Shire! HOW DARE YOU?” The hobbits voice hovered between unbelievingly hurt and tremendously furious. His small frame shook with the rage that filled his body.

 

Never before had Thorin felt so utterly helpless. It had been horrible when Bilbo had found the letter. It had been a nightmare when the dwarf had lied to him about his reason to become intimate with him. But never, not once before, had Bilbo lost his composure so completely. Thorin felt horrible, ashamed and tainted by what had happened, and he could very well understand, if Bilbo would never, ever lay eyes on him again.

The truth was, he had known that something had been off. Deep, down inside he had known that what had happened at the forge hadn’t been right. But he had been so lonely and longed for Bilbo’s touch so much that he had willingly submitted to the illusion of his hobbit pleasuring him. But that ignorance was costing him his fiancé right now. Had Bilbo been resigned during their last conflict, the hobbit seemed more than ready to throw him out on the street now.

Thorin had to make him understand that accepting a stranger’s touch had not been intentional, that the strange hobbit had tricked him. That it all had been a play at Thorin’s expense, because while it might not change Bilbo’s refusal to touch him ever again, he was hoping that at least the hobbit would not take back his promise to help the kingdom.

He needed to make Bilbo trust him, his honour wouldn’t allow anything else. There was one way, one way to convince the hobbit of his honesty. He hadn’t contemplated it before, but now he was out of options. If his honour was at stake he would sacrifice it to make Bilbo believe him.

With a soft gesture, he unshed the dagger he was usually wearing in his boot. Reaching for his front braids he cut both off with swift strokes.

Bilbo had flinched when Thorin had drawn his blade, but refused to step back when the dwarf approached him. Going down to one knee the dwarven prince offered his strands of hair. They were still woven in the intricate plaiting of the royal heir and of the Line of Durin. The ends were closed off with beads, made of the finest silver, engraved with the name of his family, his lineage and laced with jewels.

Thorin’s voice was earnest and pleading when he offered them, “Bilbo, I beg you. I swear to you, on my honour and my pride that I did not cheat on you on purpose. I didn’t realize that the hobbit who was touching me was not you. I would NEVER favour another over you. I am willing to offer my honour to make amends.”

 

The dwarrows at the door had watched the entire scene and gave a strangled noises when Bilbo took the two braids from his fiancé’s hand and threw them right back at Thorin’s face, nicking his cheek with the beads in the process. His voice was one of barely contained anger when he hissed, “What should I do with your stupid hair? It won’t make me believe your lies! GET OUT! I do NOT want to see you again!”

And with that he stormed off, towards the back of the smial and a moment later the backdoor was slammed. The silence was deafening and within an instant young Isengar let out a pitiful wail. Immediately the Old Took unwrapped his son and nudged him up on his shoulder to calm him down, stroking the baby’s back soothingly, whispering calming words into his ear.

Thorin stood in the living room of Bag End – the thain shook his head at the dwarrows, who seemingly didn’t dare to step up to their prince – he handed his whining son to Dwalin, before entering the living room. Stepping around the dwarf he looked at his blank features. Only when he drew his handkerchief and carefully dabbed Thorin’s nicked cheek, did the eyes of the dwarf focus on him. His words were nothing more than a whisper when he insisted, “I didn’t know that it wasn’t Bilbo. I would never …”

 

“I know, Thorin, I believe you.” Gently taking the dwarf’s face into his hands, forcing him to look into his eyes, the thain asked, “Do you remember what I told you the night of the wedding, about the best and yet worst traits of a member of the Took family?”

When Thorin nodded, Gerontius continued, “Then … I don’t know, take a bath, go back to work, just wait until Bilbo has calmed down a little. I know it feels bad, but nothing is lost yet. I will talk to him. We will take care of this. Alright?” When Thorin barely reacted, the Old Took cupped his face in his hands and repeated his question, “Do you understand, son?

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When Thorin nodded and left the living-room, Gerontius turn towards the dwarrows, who still stood in the entrance hall. Dwalin looked panic-stricken with a toddler in his arms, who seemed to find great joy in pulling the warriors braids.

When the little boy let out a soft whine, the dwarf’s eyes flew to his father. But the thain simply waved him off. “He’s hungry and cranky after being woken from his nap. Just get him one of Bilbo’s scones. He likes them. Nibbling on one will calm him down. And for heaven’s sake he’s not made of glass.”

Rearranging the baby in Dwalin’s arms, so that the dwarf had a firmer grip on the toddler, he pushed the tall dwarf towards the kitchen and then looked inquisitively at Balin. Picking up the cut-off braids, he turned towards the elder dwarf and demanded, “Explain.”

 

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Balin sank into one of the chairs in front of the cold fireplace to collect himself. His brain had difficulty catching up with everything that had happened. His prince sacrificing his braids for his fiancé. Bilbo insulting his future husband by disregarding his offer completely, even throwing the braids back at him, injuring Thorin in the process. And last but not least, a hobbit who gave up his son so easily, handing it to a person who was a skilled warrior but obviously had no experience with toddlers so far.

Taking a deep breath, the Councillor tried to concentrate on the last question. Gazing at the cut-off hair the Old Took held in his hands, he explained, “First of all, you need to understand, Master Took, that our hair and especially our braids mean a lot to us. The clasps show off our status and the braids our lineage. They are our pride and you will never see a dwarf without braided hair.

“Thorin sacrificing them for Bilbo means that every dwarf who now sees him will know that he has brought shame on himself, and is trying to make amends for it. His position as crown prince will be so much harder because of that. But worse than cutting them off, was Bilbo throwing them back at him. That more or less means that the hobbit has lost all interest in our future king.”

“That’s rubbish!” The Old Took declared, only to look at Balin’s sad face and then shaking his head. Sinking into the other armchair, he conceded, “No, that’s dwarfish. Isn’t it?” After a moment’s consideration he decided, “We need reinforcements.”

 

Stepping up to the window he looked outside and after a moment a piercing whistle sounded. Taking a cookie form the jar at the mantelpiece, the Old Took left the house and gestured over a dirty fauntling. Kneeling in front of the boy, he held up the cookie, “Will you run over to the Chubb-Bagginses for me and tell the dwarrows to come home immediately?”

“I can talk to the dwarrows?” The delight on the boy’s face showed even through flakes of mud that soiled it. When the Old Took simply nodded, the child dashed away, after grabbing the offered cookie.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Back at the smial Dwalin emerged from the kitchen with a proud smile on his face. The little boy in his arms munched contently on a bread-crust the dwarf had laced with honey. Smiling at his boy, kissing him gently on the head, but leaving him in Dwalin’s arms, the Old Took began to pace thorough the living room. Dwalin rearranged the child and looked down at it with adoring eyes.

Balin couldn’t help but smile at the strange picture. His brother was a warrior, fierce and strong, but the thain had proved his good instincts when handing the baby over to him. Dwalin would rather die than let any harm come to an innocent child.

Gerontius voice was calm but a little reluctant when he said, “I understand that you have been Thorin’s best friend and you have been his teacher for many years.”

When both acknowledged his assumption, he continued, “I know that that is not something one should talk about, but do you think that it is possible that Thorin … that your friend took a lover besides Bilbo? I won’t judge, just please tell me the truth so that I know how to proceed.”

 

The sons of Fundin shared a furious look, but calmed when they realized that the thain simply had to get confirmation on Thorin’s behalf. Balin stepped up to the thain, shaking his head, “No, Master Took. From what I know Bilbo was the first person to ever touch our prince. Thorin had pledged himself at Master Baggins service, had accepted his proposal for marriage, and that means for him there will never, ever be anyone besides Bilbo Baggins.

“No matter what your grandson seems to think, our prince will not entertain a lover, neither here nor at the Blue Mountains. The succession of the throne is secured with his sister’s sons and therefore our prince does not need to produce an heir. No matter what happens, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór will ALWAYS be faithful to his husband.”

 

Gerontius’ shoulders sagged in relief at this confirmation. But when Dwalin asked him why he hadn’t talked to Bilbo, he simply shook his head. “Bilbo has too much Took blood boiling in his veins to be reasonable right now. My grandson rarely loses his composure, but when he does, he is best left alone to calm down. You should remember that, because I highly doubt that this will never happen again. I can’t always be there to protect my grandson from his own stupidity!”

 

“Then what are we supposed to do now?” Dwalin very much wanted to talk to his friend. He needed to know what had happened. How Thorin could deny of being unfaithful on purpose? And What’s more – who had dared to touch their prince! His friend was miserable, his future consort even more so. He wanted to do something, to talk to them, maybe even slap some sense into their stubborn heads. Sitting here and doing nothing would not improve the situation!

So the dwarf felt slightly confused when the thain looked at him with a glitter in his eyes, revealing secretively, “Now, Master Dwalin, we wait for the boys,” before turning towards the kitchen, preparing a nice pot of tea in the best hobbit fashion.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After having received stunned comments from two very nice readers, I repeat publicly: Trust me, there WILL BE a happy ending!
> 
> And if you don't trust me, trust Redone. Because she is my betareader and she will kick my ... ahm ... backside, if I don't make this right. She is watching the story with a critical eye and won't let me go through with any inconsistencies and mistakes. She is a blessing from Mahal for me and is monitoring the situation of our beloved couple very closely. ;)


	30. Consequences of Interventions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What goes around, comes around.
> 
> This chapter is for Baccadoro, to prove that I CAN be nice and friendly to my beloved readers, even when torturing my characters ;).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After having received a not very pleasant root canal treatment from my dentist and being high on pain-killers, I decided to make at least you girls happy with the second to last chapter of this act. All I say is: Enjoy :).

The little, dirty boy found only one dwarf at Master Chubb-Baggins’s workshop. Kíli had gone into the village only half an hour ago, to deliver some bowls to the local inn. Yet the fauntling was still delighted to talk to the foreign creature, so he approached the blond dwarf from behind and started to tug at his trousers.

Turning around only to see an incredibly dirty hobbit-child, Fíli sank to his knees instantly and smiled at the young one. “Well hello, little Master. How can I help you today?”

“The thain wants to speak with you. And the other you … I mean the other dwarf. Where is he? Can I see him too? I thought you were two? Isn’t he here?” Came the rather confusing reply from the little boy.

Puzzled by that revelation, the young dwarf picked up the child and placed him on the workbench, so that he could start to clean the fauntlings face with a soft rag, while asking, “What do you mean the thain wants to speak to Kíli and me?”

Swinging his legs rather joyously, not letting himself getting irritated by a dwarf who was rubbing his face, the child asked cheerfully? “Kíli? Is that the other dwarf’s name? That’s funny. Not even a flower. I’m called This … as in Thistle. My mother thought that was funny because if someone is mean to me I can sting. I mean it!”

Raising his hands in self-defence, Fíli feigned fear. “In that case, I will no longer bother you, young Master. For I wouldn’t want to evoke your ire! But please tell me what Master Took needs from my brother and myself?”

Remembering his mission all the sudden, the little boy leaped from the bench and started to tug at the dwarves trousers again. “He said I should call you. So you need to come. Otherwise he will want to get his cookie back, and I have already eaten it. Get the other dwarf with the funny name and get going!”

Charmed by the insistent fauntling, Fíli informed Falco and Amanda that he had been called off and was given his leave.

Smiling he followed the young boy, who walked and jogged and tripped and danced along the way, whenever there was no beautiful flower or sparkling stone catching his attention.

Halfway they met a rather pale Kíli, who was looking at his brother quite anxiously. Instantly Fíli grabbed his shoulders and asked, “Kíli, what’s wrong?”

But the little boy ‘This’, didn’t seem to be aware of the other dwarves distress. Instead he pulled at his shirt and asked, “Are you Kíli? That’s a funny name you know, not at all related to a flower or a leaf, very uncommon. Come ON now! The thain wants to talk to you. There was a lot of shouting at Bag End and soon after that he ordered me to get you!”

Fíli froze the instant he felt a terrible shiver run over his brother’s form. Turning towards the little boy, Fíli kneeled down and promised, “You know, This, we know our way from here on. You can go now and continue your play. I promise you we will get to Bag End as soon as possible.”

Scrutinising the dwarven brothers for a moment, the boy just smiled brilliantly and dashed uphill to get to an orchard that sat on its top, angling for a green apple that hung low.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

As soon as the boy was out of sight, Fíli dragged Kíli to the side of the road and hugged his brother fiercely, whispering to him, “What’s wrong, brother? What happened?”

Kíli’s voice was terrified when he finally spoke, “He will send us home, Fíli. The thain is calling for us because he will send us away! I know it!” Tears started to leak form his eyes, while explaining, “I was delivering the big bowls to the inn a little while ago. And while Master Proudfoot was preparing the money for Master Chubb-Baggins, another hobbit entered. He boasted about how he … how he had …”

Kíli was past his breaking point and Fíli could only rub his back helplessly, encouraging him to continue his story. After a little while Kíli hiccoughed and continued in a mere whisper, “He told some of the other guests that he had been with uncle, and how wanton Uncle Thorin had been, and how angry Bilbo when he had caught them. And when I left they all shouted after me that nobody wanted us here, and that Bilbo would throw us out, now that he had seen what debauched creatures we are.”

 

After that revelation Fíli could only stare at his brother in disbelief. Surely their uncle would never, ever do such a thing. But on the other hand, they had yet to come across a hobbit who was telling anything but the truth. And yet, not believing Kíli was completely out of question. So the blond dwarf just stood there and petted his brother’s back, terribly confused about the situation.

After a while Kíli calmed down a little and threw Fíli a despairing look. Both knew that there really was no way around following the thain’s order, even if it had been delivered by a child. For a few heartbeats they rested their foreheads together, gathering their strengths, and when they finally separated, they looked sad but determined to deal with whatever punishment the hobbits had in store for their family. There was still hope, because no matter how honest hobbits where, both brothers knew that their uncle would never betray his fiancé, that was completely out of the question.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When they arrived at Bag End, the Old Took was sitting in Bilbo’s armchair, Balin at his side, Dwalin cuddling with Isengar, Gerontius’s youngest child, whom they had met at the wedding a few weeks earlier. The thain’s expectant smile vanished the instant he took in their determined faces. Rising from his chair and approaching them he asked, “What has happened to you?”

As they looked upon each other in confusion, Kíli asked bewildered, “What do you mean ‘to us’? We thought this was about Thorin and his …,” halting himself mid-sentence, Kíli looked to the floor unable to repeat the vile accusations he had heard.

“Do you really think your uncle is capable of cheating?” came the Old Took’s perplexed question.

Shaking his head empathically, Fíli dared to clarify their knowledge of the situation. In a low voice, with down-cast eyes, he explained, “Kíli heard in the tavern that our uncle and one of the hobbits had … that they had been intimate and that Bilbo had caught them. He shouted at Kíli that we dwarrows are … that we are…,” swallowing down a slump in his throat, he looked at the Old Took who suddenly caressed his face gently.

The hobbit’s voice was as soothing as his touch and for a moment, Fíli didn’t have the strength to withstand the offer of support, so he leaned into Gerontius’s hand and continued with closed eyes, “He said some really mean things about us and promised Kíli that you would … no, that Bilbo would throw us out because … because of what had happened. And …”

Fíli couldn’t bring himself to continue, but it seemed that it was no longer necessary anyway, because just like Bilbo, the Old Took dragged both boys into his arms, rubbing their backs comfortingly.

 

Balin and Dwalin looked at each other in utter confusion. The old hobbit’s calm demeanour had puzzled them before, but the easy and natural way he comforted the two dwarven princes took their breath away. Though Fíli and Kíli usually were troublemakers, they were treated with respect and regard by their people. Their mother and their uncle where the only exception. Yet this small creature handled them like he would handle any hobbit child. And obviously, that was exactly what they needed now.

 

After a long while, during which the three just stood there, Isengar started to wail again, most likely simply because he was ignored. Apparently his angry son made the Old Took think of something, because he took his boy from Dwalin’s arms with a smile and turned towards the boys. “Do you think you can talk some sense into Bilbo?”

Fíli and Kíli looked at each other and nodded a little insecure. “We don’t know what happened though. What shall we tell him?”

Smirked mischievously at his unhappy child - he had gotten far too little attention for the last few minutes – Gerontius simply asked, “Wouldn’t it be a great idea if you asked him then? Now remove your boots and change, I have the feeling that this is going to be a long day.”

 

Dwalin stepped up to the Old Took and asked tentatively, “You planned to let the boys talk to him from the very beginning?”

The thain nodded and switched his baby boy’s position, before revealing, “Yes I did, but they are not ready for an undeserved dressing-down from Bilbo at the moment. Yet he might give them one, just because he is irritated and angry. Therefore my little son here will smooth their way.” Winking at the tall warrior, the Old Took vanished into the depth of Bag End and collected the Durin boys on his way out.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

“I’m really not in the mood,” came a growl from a rather dark part of Bilbo’s garden, where the hobbit was sitting on his knees in front of a vegetable patch, weeding. The heaps of dead weeds he had left behind along his vegetable patches bore testimony to his temper.

“I can absolutely understand that, grandson. But I’m afraid your youngest uncle wants to see his favourite nephew.” Turning around, Bilbo glared at his grandfather, but the anger melted from his face when he saw Isengar reaching for him. After rubbing most of the dirt off his hands, he took the baby from his grandfather, and immediately received a wet smack on his face as a reward, from the little boy. Gently petting the dark curls Bilbo whispered, “Unfair,” to Gerontius.

But the Old Took just smiled and watched his grandson calming down considerably, while sharing an adorable, meaningless conversation with Isengar. After a few minutes, when Fíli and Kíli at his side started to get nervous, he simply nudged them forward and took his son from Bilbo, retreating into the smial.

 

When Bilbo saw the heartfelt expressions on the boys’ faces he just dragged his, still slightly dirty, fingers through his blond curls and sat down on the grass, patting the ground in front of him.

Instantly the two dwarrows sat down, still very close to each other, holding hands; and that alone told Bilbo how very upset they were. Still the hobbit could only shake his head and admitted, “I’m sorry that you are upset, Fíli and Kíli, but I take it that you already know what happened. That’s something I really can’t forgive. I am a Baggins, of Bag End, and at least in the Shire I deserve to be treated with respect. And what your uncle did was horribly disrespectful.”

The two dwarrows looked at each other with confusion. Fíli finally picked up the courage to ask, “But what DID happen? The hobbit said that … that he and uncle … that … that they were … ahm … together, and that you interrupted them.”

 

Bilbo admitting tiredly, “It’s not so much what he did. I … as stupid as it sounds, I could even understand that. It’s not as if I am the love of his life.” Oblivious to the slight flinch that ran through both Fíli and Kíli, the hobbit continued, “But entertaining a lover in the forge, openly for the world to see, and then ... and THEN insulting me with a STUPID story that he hadn’t even known that it hadn’t been me, that’s more than I can take!”

Sighing tiredly, Bilbo looked at his hands and admitted, “I can understand him needing to live his own life. Honestly, I didn’t expect anything else once we reached the Blue Mountains. But I can’t have him lying to me. Not anymore. Can you understand that?” Looking up, hoping that the dwarrows would be able to understand him, he looked into the confused faces of Fíli and Kíli.

 

After a few moments of hesitation Kíli asked, “Bilbo? What did actually happen? What did you see, and what did Uncle Thorin say afterwards?”

Closing his eyes, anger distorting his features once again, Bilbo hissed, “I found him in the forge with his pants down … and I mean that literally, while he was keening for Gentian to touch him! And afterwards he had the audacity to tell me that he hadn’t realized that it had been another hobbit at his back, as if he couldn’t tell the difference between me and someone else!”

“So … so he didn’t really see the other hobbit until … until you got there?” Kíli seemed confused by the explanation.

“No! He was … he was standing at Thorin’s back … he had … he had been touching him from behind and Thorin …” Bilbo broke up and tried to bring up the memories from midday, he had shoved down forcefully ever since. “He hadn’t seen him … he had … had not been given a chance to turn around …”

 

Suddenly Bilbo’s face got twisted with dread. “Oh my god, what have I done?” Swallowing hard like there was a lump in his throat, Bilbo rose very slowly and took even breaths to calm himself from his obvious agitated state of mind. In a low voice he said, “I think I will have a word or two with a certain hobbit, right now.”

Looking at each other with worried eyes, Fíli and Kíli followed Bilbo as the hobbit took long steps through the smial. Looking very confusedly at the Old Took, when Bilbo stormed out the front door, they revealed, “He wants to have a word with ‘a certain hobbit’.”

Gazing at the frozen dwarrows with unbelieving eyes, the Old Took ushered them out of Bag End. “Well then go and follow him! You can’t leave him alone when he’s like that. Heaven knows what could happen!”

 

As soon as everybody – well nearly everybody – had left the smial, the Old Took leaned back, picking up his cold tea once again. Sipping it contently, offering his little son a mouthful, he was rocking in Bilbo’s comfortable chair, waiting for four dwarrows to see how forceful his grandson could get if he rightfully felt that someone had wronged him. Because Gerontius knew that Bilbo still cared a great deal about Thorin. Otherwise the dwarf would have sported more than a slight nick on the cheek for seemingly lying to him.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo did realize that four dwarrows were following him when he stomped down to the inn, but right that moment he couldn‘t care less. His mind was blazing with cold fury at the audaciousness of Gentian Longleaf. How could the hobbit dare to touch Thorin? How could he dare accuse him of …

Kíli had told him about overhearing him, spreading his story at the inn. Now Bilbo would tell that bugger what he thought about him. When he entered the tavern he found the blue-eyed hobbit encircled by his friends, bragging about what he had done, insulting his dwarf on the way, “He was begging … begging me. I had him on his knees, quite literally. Nasty creatures they are. The Old Took should have never allowed them to come here. Now Baggins will see reason and send them back to where they belong. That alone was worth touching that depraved creature.”

Bilbo could hear a suppressed whimper from either Kíli or Fíli, but he didn’t turn around to find out which of his dwarrows were so distressed by these word‘s. Instead he stepped up to the group and cleared his throat politely. His words were cold as ice, when he asked, “So from what I understand, Gentian Longleaf, you more or less did me a favour by indecently exposing my future husband for the entire world to see?”

When said hobbit turned around he looked at Bilbo with a triumphant smile in his eyes. Instantly he approached the Master of Bag End and wrapped an arm, seemingly comfortingly, around his shoulder. His words were terribly patronizing when he said, “Of course, Bilbo. See, I know that you would try to do the right thing. Even when confronted by such arrogant creatures, even when they didn’t deserve a chance. And though I really don’t understand why you would be willing to go such lengths, you needn’t worry about it anymore. Surely you don’t want to be bound to someone who falls into the arms of the first person that serves to satisfy his desires.

“These dwarrows are wanton creatures. You’re far better off without them. A respectable Baggins like yourself shouldn’t bother with these people. I just wanted to show that to you. Surely you understand that. Now you can send them back and continue your peaceful life. And we all can spare ourselves irksome presence of these dwarrows, who came so readily when they needed something from us, but refused to help in the first place. They are just using you, tricking you into believing them to be descent people when the truth is, as soon as I stepped up to him, he lost all decency.”

“HOW DARE YOU …” Kíli’s voice raged through the tavern, when the small hobbit accused his entire race, but most specifically his uncle, of such unrighteous things.

Bilbo turned around, twisting out of the other Gentian’s embrace in the process, and ordered in a composed voice, “Kíli, don’t. This is none of your business.” The Master of Bag End looked at Dwalin, who did his best to hold back the young dwarf, seeing the sadness and disappointment in the warrior’s eyes. He gazed towards Balin, who looked so very unhappy about the words that were spoken. Finally he turned to Fíli, who simply shook his head like a stubborn mule, misery in his eyes that threatened to break Bilbo’s heart.

The blond prince made a half step towards their hobbit, before being held back by Balin. Still shaking his head he whispered brokenly, “You don’t believe that. Bilbo, please, say that you don’t believe that. You know us. You … please …” Fíli lowered his eyes and finally allowed the oldest dwarf to drag him back towards his brother.

Without another comment Bilbo turned around to look at Gentian, took in the glee and the wicked pride in the other hobbit’s face, and clarified in a calm voice, “Yes, I know whom to believe and what actions to take as a consequence.”

There was a sharp intake of breath when Bilbo drew back his arm, and hit the blue-eyed hobbit with so much force, that he fell to the floor, bleeding profoundly from his nose. Stepping up to Gentian, glaring down at him in burning anger, Bilbo declared, “You will never, EVER come close to my fiancé again. And if you ever dare to insult or hurt one of my dwarrows, you will find out the length a respectable Baggins of Bag End is willing to go to protect his family.”

“You can’t … you don’t …” Gentian was stammering, not daring to get up from the floor as long as Bilbo glared down at him, a bloody fist still clutched firmly at his side. But Bilbo interrupted him.

“No, maybe I can’t. But believe me, my grandfather can. I have the full support of the Old Took in these matters. Do you really want the thain of the Shire as your enemy?”

Looking into the shocked faces of Gentian’s companion’s, Bilbo spelled out, “That goes for all of you. Don’t hurt, don’t come close, don’t even think about my dwarrows ever again! Have I made myself clear?”

The rushed nods of many heads pacified Bilbo somehow, because he now unclenched his fist, realizing how very much his hand hurt. But he didn’t want to think about that now. With a polite nod towards the inn-keeper, Bilbo ushered the stunned dwarrows out of the tavern.

Only when they were out of earshot did Bilbo halt the group and cupped Fíli’s face, touching their foreheads and confirming in a sure voice, “No, Fíli, I would never believe that. I know all of you far too well, to even consider something like that for a heartbeat. I am so sorry for what he did.” When Kíli tentatively stepped up to the pair, Bilbo pulled the dwarf into their embrace in as well, assuring him, “Everything is alright, boys. Don’t worry.”

After having reassured Fíli and Kili, Bilbo gazed at Balin and Dwalin in shame. Both had a strange look in their eyes and Bilbo was really worried about their reaction on everything that had happened. Yet still he had to apologize for the insulting behaviour, not only his own but also that of the other hobbit. “I can’t even imagine what you two think of us hobbits now. I am really so very sorry for what happened. Not all of us are like Gentian, angry and twisted inside, willing to go to such lengths to discredit someone he doesn‘t like. And I apologize sincerely that you had to watch me losing my composure so spectacularly.”

The sons of Fundin shared a glance and a smile, before stepping up to Bilbo, who now - once again - had Fíli and Kíli standing at his side.

Balin was the first one to speak, approaching the worried Master of Bag End. Smiling he said, “Quite honestly Master Baggins, you do leave quite an impression.” Bilbo looked worried, when Dwalin followed his brother, and put his large hand on the hobbit’s shoulder, “I think I speak for all of us when I say: we couldn’t be more proud of our hobbit right now and feel honoured that you chose us over your fellow hobbits.”

Bilbo’s face brightened in at the compliment, he relaxed considerably at the praise.

 

All four dwarrows looked at him expectantly and finally Bilbo took a deep breath. What had happened had been horrible, but now at least he had proved his point. He was sure that the story of his aggressive behaviour would spread like a wildfire all through Hobbiton.

Bilbo had not been aware that there was a fraction of hobbits who still detested dwarrows on sight and would do anything to discredit them. But when he thought about it, he was not that surprised at all. The prejudice of his grandfather was not without cause. Many had been injured themselves, or had lost somebody dear to them, during the Fell Winter. When fate took someone you love, your first instinct was to blame someone. The dwarrows were an easy target, because they couldn’t defend themselves in their current situation. Not without risking losing the support they had worked for.

And yet, to touch someone in such an indecent way, was more than Bilbo had ever thought possible. But then his own reaction came to the forefront of his mind and his cheeks burned with shame. How could he have shouted at Thorin? Why hadn’t he believed his fiancé? Bilbo exhaled in a shudder, something that made Fíli and Kíli looking at him with concern.

Looking at the four dwarrows, Bilbo declared in a low voice, “Thank you for your support, all of you. But I think now we need to go home. There is someone I need to apologize to.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding what happened to $%&$/() (you know who I mean), please remember that Bilbo is just one, simple hobbit. He doesn't think about the law or proper punishment for the crime that had been committed. He's just a hobbit who's fiancé had been improperly touched and he wanted to make sure this didn't happen ever again.
> 
> But there is one who could take care of the legal side of this affair. And he will do so in cold vengeance. It had been his future grandson-in-law after all who had suffered, and he will not rest until justice is served!


	31. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As we all know, some apologies are in order AND making up for former mistakes.

It took them longer to return to the smial than it had taken to reach the village. Bilbo‘s worry was apparent to all of them, but no dwarf chose to comfort him. Because though he had stood up for them, how he had treated Thorin had not been right, and especially Dwalin and Balin wished to know how the hobbit would deal with the situation.

And while Fíli and Kíli had come to love Bilbo dearly, even they knew that a sincere apology was the least their uncle deserved. Though they all were proud of their hobbit for defending them, especially by force - something none of them would ever have thought Bilbo capable of - dismissing Thorin‘s sacrifice had been an insult beyond compare. The pair needed to talk about this, so that Bilbo could understand how very much he had hurt the future king.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin had - as the thain had advised - returned to Bilbo‘s room. He wished the old hobbit to be true, but the chance that Bilbo and he would go through this unaffected was nearly non-existent. So he started to gather the stuff that had found its way to the master bedroom over the last days. When he picked up the dark-blue shirt his hobbit had had made for the wedding, he realized that his hands were shaking. Sinking down into the armchair beside the small fireplace, he looked at the cold stone, thinking about everything that had happened.

He had been overjoyed when he had thought Bilbo coming to the forge to … to be with him. He had missed his fiancé‘s touches so dearly over the last few days. But he had been grateful that he didn‘t have to sleep alone any more, like he had done for the majority of his life, so he hadn‘t wanted to push the issue with the intimacy. But for Thorin their first contact had somehow opened a window to unknown desires. Now feelings had found their way into his heart he was helpless against.

He wanted … no, needed the hobbit’s touch so desperately that it was almost a physical pain. Only a few weeks ago, his nephews’ desire to be together, to touch each other constantly, had been normal for him, but he had never been able to understand the desire, not completely. Now a part of him wished Bilbo and him to be as close as Fíli and Kíli. His nephews were so open and easy with their affections. They sat, even stood, close to each other. They touched each other constantly, and no matter who initiated the contact, the other accepted it and leaned into it always. How very much he envied them now.

Therefore, when small hands had touched him, he had been overjoyed and consequently pushed everything aside that had disturbed his fantasy. For the first time since Bilbo had caught him masturbating in the middle of the night, the hobbit had initiated an intimate contact and even when something had not felt right, Thorin had longed for it so very much, that he had overlooked any inconsistencies in favour of simply being with Bilbo.

When the Master of Bag End had made himself known in the doorway, the dread had frozen his mind, but his burning body had overwhelmed him nevertheless. The look of betrayal and disappointment in his hobbit‘s face when he had found completion, had broken something inside of him. Never before in his life had he wished so desperately to have made a different choice.

The depth of Bilbo‘s disappointment had shown clearly, when he had thrown back the braids he had offered as a last resort to make his fiancé believe him. There was nothing more that Thorin could offer as a redress for his betrayal. In dwarven culture unfaithfulness was one of the highest offences against your partner.

Usually couples broke their bond when one betrayed the other, because infidelity did not only mean dishonouring, but also lack of any respect for the partner. Bilbo and he were not even married yet. It would be very easy for the hobbit to take back his promise, and Thorin couldn‘t even hold it against him. Despairing, Thorin buried his face in his hands.

He didn‘t worry about his people any longer, because from what he had learned of Bilbo Baggins, he was sure now that the hobbit would still do everything in his power to help the Blue Mountains, simply because the dwarrows there were in need of their help and it was against Bilbo‘s very nature to let someone suffer if he could do something about it. But for their relationship Thorin saw little chance.

The thain didn‘t seem too worried, so Thorin assumed that Bilbo wouldn‘t throw all of them out immediately. But after the last few weeks, he had come to desire more than simply living alongside the hobbit.

Thorin wanted Bilbo so very much that he would do his uttermost to prove himself to his hobbit, simply because an existence without the hobbit in his life seemed bleak and joyless for him. If he was allowed to stay, he could concentrate on the courting and maybe … just maybe, after a few years, the hobbit would be inclined to give him another chance, if he proved himself faithful and honest.

With that idea in mind, Thorin rose again and collected his things. He would bring them to his old guestroom and simply hope for the best. He had a lot of responsibilities as royal heir, but maybe his father would grant his wish to spend a couple of weeks in the Shire each season. Eventually he could bring up the promise to serve and obey this special hobbit to be allowed to return. That way he could not only send courting presents from the Blue Mountains, but be around Bilbo on a regular basis. Hobbiton still needed a blacksmith; if he could convince his father that working here regularly would increase the relationship between the hobbits of the Shire and the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains, Thráin might allow it.

When there was a knock at the guest-room door, Thorin opened and looked down at the thain, composed and regal once more, just like one would expect from a prince of the Line of Durin. Respectfully he bowed his head and asked: „Do you need my assistance, Master Took?”

 

Gerontius instantly took in the change of bearing and behaviour of the dwarf. Thorin looked strong and royal, like one would expect from a future king, and though his words and bearing were respectful, his eyes and face betrayed no emotion. Through that the Old Took realized how very much his grandson had hurt his fiancé. Never before had he seen Thorin so withdrawn. Knowing how much the dwarf had changed during his time here, from a bitter and guarded male to an open and friendly being, that change hurt even more.

The Old Took wished so very much that his grandson would be able to make up for his insult. But the thain was afraid that the dwarven prince had already made up his mind. Drawing back from the main source of happiness he had found during his stay here, he would relapse to the closed off person he had been upon his arrival. Gerontius wanted to apologise on his grandson’s behalf, but Bilbo wasn‘t a child any more. He had made a severe mistake, and he was the only one who could correct it. So he simply said: „Bilbo would like to talk to you, would you please come to the living-room?”

Realizing that the dwarf had been on his way to gather his things, the Old Took just relocated his napping son from one shoulder to the other and stepped out of the way. Thorin had started to pack, was prepared for leaving. Following the erect figure through the smial, Gerontius took in the four dwarrows and the hobbit who stood in the living-room, before retreating into the kitchen. It would not do to eavesdrop, the smial was small enough anyway that he would hear everything that was said, while preparing an early afternoon-tea.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

As soon as Bilbo took in Thorin‘s proud bearing he knew that this would be a lot more difficult than he had expected. A small part of him asked himself, if that was how Thorin felt whenever he tried to apologize to Bilbo after an incident. For a moment the hobbit wished that he hadn‘t asked all of his guests to witness this encounter. But then he called himself a fool. He hadn‘t cared about their presence when he had insulted Thorin. So it was only right that his apology would be equally public.

 

It took the prince only a moment to take in all the figures who witnessed what was about to come. His heart sank and he suddenly wished to be able to simply leave, without another confrontation. It had been bad enough that they all had seen Bilbo dismissing the sacrifice of his honour and pride in the first place, but now they would even see the hobbit breaking their engagement. The dwarven prince closed his eyes for a moment and took an even breath, steeling himself for what was about to come.

 

Unable to stand the regal and distant posture of his fiancé a moment longer, Bilbo clutched Thorin’s braids in his hands. He felt the metal beads imprinting themselves into his flesh, but the pain helped him to concentrate on what he had to say, it distracted his mind from the throbbing of the hand he had injured during the encounter in the tavern. Taking in a deep breath, Bilbo spilled out: „Thorin, IamsosorryforwhatIhavedone. Pleaseforgiveme.“

 

„What?” As soon as Bilbo had started to talk, Thorin had opened his eyes again, concentrating on his fiancé. He had already embarrassed himself enough with his ignorance of who had touched him. He would not bring shame to his linage by behaving inappropriately again. Therefore he had prepared himself for many things: to be shouted at, to be told that the engagement was off, even to be informed that his stay in Bag End was at an end. But the last thing he had expected - had even thought possible - was Bilbo apologizing. It was he who had done wrong, so why was his hobbit saying that he was sorry?

 

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo forced himself to calm down. Stepping closer to the dwarf, looking up pleadingly, he clutched the cut-off braids desperately. Had the hobbit been aware of all the dwarrows watching him during his initial apology, he didn‘t care about them any longer. The only thing that was important now, was Thorin believing him, forgiving him for what he had done.

In an earnest tone, concentrating on speaking considerably slower, Bilbo repeated himself: „I was wrong, Thorin. I shouldn‘t have shouted at you. I should have believed you in the first place. I know now what had happened and I am so very, very sorry for what I have said and done.

„I realize that this apology might mean very little to you, because you cut off your braids and I didn‘t understand it and I threw them back at you, insulting, even injuring you in the process. I was disrespectful and dismissive, and I am so very, very sorry for that. Please forgive me.” Desperately Bilbo closed the last distance between himself and his dwarf, burying his hand‘s in Thorin‘s shirt, as if the contact would make it easier for the dwarf to believe his words.

When the dwarf seemed petrified by his words, so Bilbo nudged him a little, promising in a low voice: „I will make this up to you in any way possible. I promise. Please, give me a chance.”

 

Overwhelmed by the situation, his hobbit once again so close to him, Thorin looked at his friends and family. Fíli and Kíli seemed a little nervous of how he would react, but still his they smiled, because they realized how unexpected Bilbo‘s apology had come for him.

Balin had that enigmatic look on his face that Thorin knew so very well but still was unable to interpret, and Dwalin … Dwalin was leaning against the doorframe of the dining room, arms folded in front of his chest, smiling unrestrainedly. Obviously the warrior was more than impressed with Bilbo‘s willingness to admit to his faults in public, trying to make amends for them.

But Bilbo hadn‘t made a mistake; it had been Thorin’s fault in the first place. So why was his hobbit apologizing? The dwarf had been the one who had allowed someone else to touch him. So why did Bilbo look so distressed and was clutching his shirt so desperately? Looking down at the hobbit, Thorin suddenly realized that Bilbo’s knuckles were split and that there was blood oozing from the wounds.

Frowning, Thorin tried to reach for Bilbo’s hand while asking, “Why are you bleeding? What happened?”

 

Thorin seemed surprised when Bilbo just drew back his hand, looking at his fiancé’s worried face, shaking his head empathically. This was not the time and place to discuss his spectacular loss of composure. It was embarrassing enough as it was, so Bilbo put his hand behind his back and tried once again to make Thorin understand how very sorry he was. “That’s not important right now. Please, Thorin. Can we talk about this and forget about my hand? It’s really nothing.”

Bilbo sentenced himself to his fate, when Thorin shook his head vehemently and reached for the hobbit’s hand again. Aware that he was by far not strong enough to withstand the taller dwarf, Bilbo relaxed and let his fiancé take his hand. He was surprised at the unexpectantly soft tone of Thorin’s voice when he insisted, “That is not ‘nothing’, Bilbo. You wanted me to be open and honest with you. You said that our relationship could only work that way. Please do the same for me and tell me where you have hurt yourself so much.”

 

Terribly worried, seeing the tender and soft hands of his hobbit bleeding and split open at the knuckles, Thorin guided Bilbo into the kitchen and urged him to sit down. He was only partially aware that his friends were following him and that the Old Took stood near the pantry, preparing a snack for them, but he couldn’t care about them at the moment. Bilbo was special and precious, there was no reason in Middle-earth that the hobbit should be bleeding and hurt. Fetching a bowl of water, Thorin gently placed Bilbo’s hand in it and used a fresh towel to clean the injury.

When he could inspect the actual wounds, Thorin asked once more, “What happened, Bilbo?”

 

Frustrated beyond compare because the focus point of the conversation had clearly shifted into the wrong direction, Bilbo admitted, “I lost my composure, alright? Just like when I found the letter, just like at the wedding. Only this time I wasn’t even able to keep myself in check enough to use words to make my point. I lost it quite spectacularly in the tavern. Is that explanation enough for you?”

 

The snappish answer motivated Thorin to turn around and look at his friend Dwalin for an explanation. As before, the warrior only chuckled and clarified, “You have a fierce little hobbit at your side, my prince. He DID use words to make his point. He interrogated the other hobbit … Gentian? … about what had happened. And when the hobbit admitted that he had played you, your fiancé made it very clear what he thought of him and broke his nose.”

Clearly content with the outcome, Dwalin elaborated on the details, even when Bilbo groaned and hid his face in his partially wet hands. “The vile little thing hit the ground quite forcefully and our Master Baggins even threatened those in his company to never come close to any of us again. They seemed rather frightened by our hobbit.”

Now Kíli repeated Bilbo’s threat for his uncle to hear, because he could no longer hide his delight about them, “’If you ever dare to insult or hurt one of MY dwarrows, you will find out the length a respectable Baggins of Bag End is willing to go to protect his family.’ That’s what he said and he scared the hell out of the others, I promise you!” The love and adoration for their host shone so clearly in the youngest dwarf’s eyes, when he looked at his uncle.

Thorin could hear Bilbo’s head hitting the table with a desperate groan. Grateful for the necessary information, Thorin nodded towards his friends and family, ordering them wordlessly to leave, before returning his attention to his hobbit. Thankfully even the Old Took followed them. Standing up, he collected a small pot from one of the pantries – a salve he had seen Bilbo treat cuts and abrasions with it in the past. He sat down again and once more took Bilbo’s injured hand.

Forced to look up, Bilbo evaded Thorin’s eyes, obviously terribly ashamed of his display of violence. How could Thorin make his fiancé understand how much honour he had given him and his family, even his friends, by fighting for them? There were so many things to do, so many other more important things to learn about each other’s culture, that the dwarven prince decided to let this one slide for now. He doubted that his hobbit was open for a lesson in cultural behaviour right now.

When he had coated the knuckles of Bilbo’s right hand with the ointment, and wrapped it in clean linen, he asked in a low voice, “Was Kíli right? Did you call us family in front of the other hobbits?”

Confused by the sudden change of subject, Bilbo inquired, “Of course. What else should I call you?”

“Being family is something special. Family by blood is used to protect each other, by any means necessary. But if you find a family of heart, it’s even more precious.” Leaning in so that their foreheads would touch if Bilbo only came a fraction closer, the dwarf asked again, “Is this really how you see us?”

With tears streaming out of his eyes, Bilbo closed that last distance and admitted, “Of course I do. And I am so sorry for having hurt you even more because of that. That’s not something I ever wanted to do, Thorin. Please, you have to believe me. I was so hurt when I thought of you taking another lover. I can understand that you eventually will do that in the Blue Mountains, but not here. Not when I’m perfectly willing.”

Thorin frowned and drew back so that he could look at Bilbo’s face again, but the hobbit had just lowered his head, avoiding his gaze. Nudging the small face up, Thorin probed, “You expect me to take a lover once I return to the Blue Mountains?”

Turning away his face, because he didn’t care for Thorin to see the jealousy and hurt that surely reflected in his eyes, Bilbo shrugged his shoulders and stood up, bringing much needed distance between himself and his lover, so that he was able to answer in a light tone, “Of course. I am not a dwarf. I am sure many of your kind would offer themselves freely to the future king. And now that you have gotten a hang of it, why shouldn’t you indulge in the offers?”

 

As disturbing as the concept of entertaining a lover while being married was, Thorin felt a sudden heat spread in his chest. Like the brightest flame, the hottest forge, it warmed him from the inside, making him smile brilliantly. His dear little hobbit was jealous. Not ‘braid flowers in my hair so no hobbit touches me’ jealous but ‘furious rage, slapping people around for actually doing it’ jealous!

Unable to believe his good fortune that he already meant so much to his fiancé, Thorin rose and stepped up to Bilbo, who was currently standing in front of a cupboard, angling for cups from the topmost shelf. Crowding the smaller hobbit with his body, Thorin leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Maybe because I don’t want dwarves who offer themselves freely to a future king, but a kind and courageous hobbit, who is willing to fight for my people? Someone who is losing it so spectacularly when he thinks someone is stealing his future husband away?”

 

Bilbo felt himself shiver at the heat Thorin suddenly seemed to emanate. His dwarf always had a higher body temperature than he, but in that very moment Bilbo felt engulfed by flames. He couldn’t stop from leaning into the comforting heat a little when he heard Thorin’s assurance, “Dwarrows are faithful, Bilbo. I would never entertain a lover, not when I can have you.”

Turning around, unable to believe his good fortune, Bilbo looked up at Thorin, asking again, “Why? What could I possibly give you that other dwarrows can’t?” Angling his fiancé’s face just right, lowering himself to it so that they were a mere breath away, the dwarven prince revealed, “Everything I have ever wanted,” before kissing his hobbit sweetly.

Bilbo melted against the powerful frame of his dwarf, clutching Thorin’s shirt with his uninjured hand. In a low voice he asked, “Will you forgive me and … and will you let me braid your hair again?”

Closing his arms around his hobbit, Thorin smiled once more. Bilbo could surely feel him nodding because the hobbit’s honey-brown curls currently were positioned under the dwarves chin. His hobbit relaxed considerably and leaned into the embrace. Though still uncomfortable by what had happened at the forge, Thorin felt his dislike for a certain hobbit lessen a little bit, because knowing – not hoping or wishing but knowing – how much he meant to Bilbo, somehow was worth all off the prior pain.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

One look at the couple that was emerging from the kitchen a little while later told the Old Took everything he needed to know. Hugging first his grandson and then his grandson’s future husband, he told Thorin in a whisper one more time, “Tookish blood boils hot and scourging when angered, but it cools down sooner or later. You just have to wait and not take everything to heart my grandson says when he is furious. Your life will be much easier if you keep that in mind.”

After a brief hesitation Thorin leaned down and touched the thain’s forehead with his own, smiling down at the smaller hobbit. His voice was warm and open again when he said, “I will try to remember that, Master Took. Thank you for your help today.”

Smiling brilliantly, taking his son back from a doting Dwalin, the Old Took just nodded towards the other guests in the room as well as his grandson and left the smial.

Sighing happily Kíli asked, “Now that this is behind us: tea, anybody?”

Dwalin just looked at the youngest dwarf, shook his head and said simply, “Hobbit!” Then he nudged him and Fíli towards the kitchen, so that they could finish the preparations the Old Took had started.

Sitting in the back garden with hot tea, cold whipped cream and a generous amount of biscuits, all of the current inhabitants of Bag End relaxed after the occurrences of the early afternoon.

Bilbo was the first one to talk again, gently trailing his fingers through Thorin’s dark strands. “Would it be acceptable if I braided your hair again? I understand that it was meant as an apology but …” trailing off because he simply didn’t know how to express his feelings, Bilbo looked up to Thorin questioningly.

Smiling at his hobbit, Thorin took Bilbo’s uninjured hand and brushed his lips over the sensitive wrist before answering, “A dwarf’s braids are his pride and honour. I was willing to sacrifice both for you … to make you believe me, and I would do so again if the situation was similar. But if you deem the sacrifice sufficient, you are the only one who can braid them again. For the time being it will be your choice if I wear braids or not.”

Knowing by instinct that it wouldn’t do to use the old clasps again, Bilbo asked, “Do you have another clasp?”

Now it was Fíli who answered for his uncle with a snicker, “Actually he has several clasps, in his room.” When Bilbo asked if he could use one of these, the young dwarf grinned with a gaze towards his uncle, who looked at him very sternly, “I doubt it.”

“Why?” Confused by the sharp glances that Thorin shot Fíli, the hobbit turned to his fiancé and asked, “If you have several clasps, why can’t we use them?” When Thorin mumbled something unintelligible and turned away his head, Bilbo nudged a little closer and turned his fiancé’s face with a tender hand. Looking up expectantly Thorin finally gave in and admitted, “Because I made them for you. But they were not good enough.”

Cheeks aflame at that revelation, Bilbo whispered excitedly, “May I see them? Please?”

Thorin had never been able to refuse a request from his hobbit, when Bilbo looked at him that way, hopeful and suppliant, with fluttering eyelashes, grinning widely when Thorin rose from the table and vanished into the smial.

“Nicely played, Master Baggins,” was Balin’s amused comment. Bilbo just nodded his head gratefully and turned towards the older dwarf’s brother. “Do you have…”

Stopping the hobbit mid-sentence, Dwalin nodded, “Yes, it’s ready.” But before the warrior could reach for his numerous pockets, Thorin returned with a small, wooden box.

As he placed it in front of Bilbo, the hobbit really looked like a child at Yule-day and Thorin couldn’t help but nod, encouraging him to open the little chest. With shining eyes and careful fingers Bilbo opened the lid and blinked at the numerous beads that shimmered and twinkled before his eyes. Reverently he took out one after another, admiring patterns and stone inlays and carvings. Some were only half-finished, others mere plates that still needed to be bent, but each and every one of them was truly beautiful. Picking up one that was covered over and over with tiny flowers and pictures of vines inbetween, Bilbo looked at Thorin expectantly.

“I liked that one, but it didn’t have enough meaning for my liking,” did Thorin admit.

Bilbo, still admiring the tiny and detailed carvings, asked, “May I keep it?”

Nodding because they all had been meant for the hobbit in the first place, Thorin confirmed, “Of course. If you like it, it’s yours.”

It was highly unusual for someone to pick one bead for himself – apart from the maker being a jeweller – but none of the dwarrows had the heart of revealing that to the beaming hobbit who traced the patterns of his new bead in delight.

“Alright, now back to your braids.” Within moments the table in front of them was cleaned by the boys, and Bilbo patted his pockets for his handkerchief. When Fíli and Kíli reemerged from the smial, the polishing-off done, they offered the comb to Bilbo and instantly the hobbit crowded his fiancé, placing himself in front of his dwarf, after putting said handkerchief on the table. Carefully he started to comb through Thorin’s masses of hair.

The dwarf pulled the box of beads closer, combing through it with his fingers, to find a suitable beads for himself. In the Mountain this would be an easier task, because he kept several gold, silver and even mithril clasps in his jewellery case. But in Hobbiton – with his fiancé in mind – he had used only copper, not only because it had been available, but because it complimented Bilbo’s hair so nicely.

When the first braid was woven, Thorin looked up to Bilbo, because the hobbit had yet to choose a clasp for him. But instead of reaching for the box, Bilbo removed one of his own beads, the one with the polished green stone, the hearth-fire and the runes of Durin and Baggins and looked at his fiancé inquisitively. His voice was low when the hobbit asked, “Everybody has seen me wearing it. They know it’s mine. May I …?”

Reaching for Bilbo’s fingers to place a reverent kiss on them, Thorin nodded and admitted in a slightly hoarse voice, “I would be honoured.” He wanted to tell Bilbo how much this meant for a dwarf, to be given a bead from someone else’s head. It was more or less the first step of serious courting for two dwarrows to make beads for each other. Sometimes, when the pair couldn’t afford it, they just exchanged clasps they already possessed. Thorin had made this very special clasp himself, but that didn’t lessen the gift in his eyes.

Delighted by the approval, Bilbo finished the first braid, closing it off with the round, green stone at the front. It was a much stronger contrast in Thorin’s hair than in his own, and a tiny part of Bilbo enjoyed it immensely to see the clasp he had worn for the last weeks, in his fiancés hair. Quickly closing his own braid off with the new bead that bore fruits and flowers, he smiled brilliantly at Thorin, before starting the other one.

Thorin realized that Bilbo’s fingers worked slower and slower, when he reached the end of the second braid, as if he didn’t want to finish it. Puzzled by the sudden nervousness his partner radiated, he said hesitantly, so as to not spook Bilbo away, “You have to choose another one.”

Pressing his lips together, the hobbit shook his head and admitted, “No, I already had one in mind, but I am not so sure any more, because yours are so beautiful and valuable and …”

“No,” suddenly Dwalin’s deep voice resonated over the table. “You won’t bail out now, Master Baggins. It IS suitable and it IS beautiful, just let Thorin judge for himself whether he wants to wear it.”

Entirely confused by the conversation, Thorin looked at Dwalin and then back to his hobbit, before gazing at his best friend again. “What do you mean, Dwalin?”

Before he could finish his sentence, Bilbo nodded reluctantly and opened his hand towards the warrior. Cautiously the tall dwarf placed a small piece of cloth into it, and Bilbo offered it to Thorin the next moment. Nervously he admitted, “I made a bead for you. I just … I just don’t know if you want to wear it because it’s not as shiny and as precious as yours. It’s not even metal.”

Mystified by everything that was happening, Thorin carefully pulled back the wrapping and revealed a highly polished wooden clasp, strengthened with a copper cylinder, which seemed to hug it from the inside out. The combination of the wood and the metal was so perfect that the dwarf looked at his friend in awe.

But Dwalin just shrugged his shoulders and leaned back on the bench, looking at Thorin and Bilbo and waiting to see what they would do with the present.

For a little while Thorin just turned the bead in his hand, admiring the tiny flowers that were carved into the wood so perfectly. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, because that was EXACTLY what one dwarf would give to another with whom he wished to bond. Aware that plants always had meanings in the Shire, Thorin asked, “The flowers … what do they mean?”

Thrilled that his present obviously was appreciated, Bilbo turned the bead in Thorin’s hand, pointing at the first flower, “The first one is a Geranium, it symbolizes the point where we started: foolishness, stupidity but still true friendship because from the first day on you have proven yourself as one. The next one is …”

“A Dog-Rose, it stands for pleasure and pain,” Thorin completed the sentence. He had not forgotten the meaning of the twelve flowers Bilbo had woven into his hair at the wedding. Blooms he still kept confined between the sheets of a book in his room. Turning the bead to the last engraving, a beautiful interwoven twine, Thorin looked up at his hobbit expectantly and was bewildered once again, when Bilbo evaded his gaze.

Looking at the bead in his finances hand, pulling back his fingers Bilbo explained in a low voice, “That’s Ivy.”

When the hobbit refrained from revealing the meaning of that special plant, Balin rose from the table and guided not only his brother, but Fíli and Kíli as well, into the smial. The dwarf didn’t know what that special plant stood for, hadn’t done any research because the thought of researching plant-language had not occurred to him. But still he could tell that the Ivy had a very personal meaning for the hobbit. He simply assumed that he didn’t want any witnesses when revealing it.

Grateful for his friends and nephews leaving, Thorin asked, after a few moments of peace, in a tender voice, “What does the Ivy stand for, Bilbo?”

The hobbit’s voice was so low that Thorin had to strain himself to hear him, when he finally whispered, “It stands for wedded love, fidelity, friendship and affection. It’s what I wish for our future. Carving it into your bead was like …”

When Bilbo trailed off Thorin smiled and reached for his hobbit’s hand, tracing Bilbo’s bracelet with tender fingers. “It’s like increasing the chances of your wish to come true.”

When Bilbo nodded empathically Thorin nudged the hobbit a little so that their foreheads touched. Waiting for his fiancé to calm down again, Thorin asked after a few moments, “Would you … please braid it in, Bilbo? I would very, very much like to wear it.”

After Bilbo had closed off the second braid with slightly shaking fingers, Thorin cautiously pulled his hobbit off the table and into his lap. When he felt Bilbo’s arms surrounding him, he closed his own around the smaller figure. Burying his face in the crook of the hobbit’s neck, he inhaled deeply. The warm, earthy, sunny, lavender-smell of his fiancé always calmed him down and after everything that had transpired today, it seemed that they both were in need of some soothing.

After a long while, during which several of the other inhabitants of Bag End had peeked through the back door, but Thorin had steadfastly chased them away, Bilbo finally let go and looked at Thorin’s face.

Once more the hobbit stated, “I should not have shouted at you. I should not have hurt you. That was very wrong.”

Nodding Thorin admitted, “Not turning around in the forge was wrong too. So I guess we are even now.” Brushing away Bilbo’s now unruly braid, Thorin said, “Just don’t believe that there can ever be anybody else beside you, because that is not true Bilbo. It never has been, it never will. Have faith in me when I assure you of that!”

“I will try,” touching their foreheads once again, Bilbo stated, “I will do my very best to try.”

Angling his head a little, Thorin smiled, “That’s all I can ask for,” before lifting his head, sealing Bilbo’s lips with his own.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like in any good show: At the end of an act everything is like it was at the beginning.  
> Well almost, because I hope that our beloved characters DID learn a lot of thing's over the last few weeks. Not all of them good, but all of them important.
> 
> Now I'm afraid I can't even estimate when the next chapter will be up. I hope next week but I can't promise. But still, admit it, that was pretty exceptional!
> 
> Thank you for your support and your comments and overall for following me and enjoying the story together with me. It would never have come this far without you. It's so much more fun to write when you know your story is appreciated. Love you all.


	32. Act 4

* * *

# Act 4

* * *

 


	33. By the River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little scavenger hunt for Thorin, with an extraordinary prize at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have been so patient with me, and though my guest is still around, I wouldn't want to make you wait longer than a week for the next act to start.  
> I will give absolutely no warnings this time because I am sure that all of you will tremendously enjoy what is coming.

From that evening on, Bilbo started to take very good care of his fiancé’s needs. Even when the contact was mostly superficial and a little rushed, Thorin and Bilbo always fell into bed satisfied and much calmer than before. Even Thorin’s nightmares lessened considerably, although he occasionally shivered and turned around whenever Bilbo was cuddling him from behind.

There were nightmares, but very few, and while the dwarf still berated himself occasionally for mistaking another hobbit’s touch for that of his fiancé, Bilbo’s languid fingers trailing through the dwarf’s hair calmed him most efficiently. Now Bilbo always wished he could linger in bed a little longer in the mornings. But aware of his duties as a host, he just kissed Thorin’s hair most tenderly after waking up, before slipping out of the bed to prepare breakfast.

However, Bilbo was still aware that though both enjoyed their intimacy greatly, Thorin was still missing out on the most pleasurable experiences one could share with another. But with his house full of dwarrows, Bilbo doubted that they could take the time, and more importantly the privacy, to explore that together. After four more days - the preparations for the first caravan came around nicely - Bilbo decided that he had had enough. He wouldn’t wait any longer to steal away a moment from his duties and his guests. Instead he decided to do something about it and started planning.

 

He and Balin had started extensive preparations for the food acquiring and the necessary transport. The two of them - as well as Dwalin - were going out nearly every day, meeting with the thain and the local vendors to prepare the wagons, corn, fruits (as soon as they were harvested) and everything else they would need in a few weeks. Harvest was still a month away and it had become clear very quickly that Hobbiton would not be able to provide everything the dwarrows needed.

So trips to the other Farthings were in order, and though Bilbo had relatives nearly everywhere, and those would host him gladly, he didn’t enjoy the thought of leaving Bag End and his dwarrows alone, especially not after what had happened at the forge.

When they had talked about this, Thorin, as well as Fíli and Kíli, had assured him that they would manage on their own, although Bilbo could tell that they were as reluctant to see him go as he was to leave. But being bound to their duties, it was impossible for the Durins to accompany Bilbo and Balin on their journey.

Close to a week after the encounter at the forge - the 100 days of summer were nearly at an end - Bilbo talked with Balin and Dwalin, sharing his plan to steal Thorin away for one evening. Though he didn’t like the knowing look on their faces, Bilbo was still glad when the dwarrows assured him that they would make dinner, and see to it that Fíli and Kíli would take care of the washing-up and not follow their uncle to spy on them.

Honestly Bilbo hadn’t thought of that possibility before, but knowing his boys, he became aware that he had to do something to avoid this. Fíli and Kíli adored their uncle, and had proven that they were ready to support his and Bilbo’s relationship, but that would not keep them from trying to snoop on them whenever an opportunity presented itself. So the hobbit was nearly sure that they would trail after Thorin, if Bilbo dwarf-napped him for an evening, just to find out what the hobbit was planning. The hobbit’s plans however, didn’t tolerate any witnesses. Bilbo wanted to enjoy an evening alone with his fiancé, just to eat and to talk in peace and if something else happened … well, nobody would need to know aside the two of them.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin was used to working close to a furnace and the scalding heat of a forge; but summer in the Shire was more than the dwarf could take. In the Mountains there was always a place to cool down while smithing. The dwarrows’ home was never freezing but always cool enough to relax when overheated. The summer in Hobbiton was hot and many days passed when only the evening brought a little relief from the scalding temperatures. The backyard of the forge was already covered in mud because Thorin left his work often, to drench himself with a bucket of water.

Bilbo however seemed to be perfectly fine with the blazing heat. He had been in a particularly good mood today, when he had come around with hot tea and a stew for Thorin. Mistrustful against the hot drink, but accepting it for the sake of keeping their peace, the dwarf had realized with some surprise that the steaming liquid had really given him a little ease, so he had gratefully downed the whole pot. Bilbo however only smiled about his gluttony and served stew with fresh bread. After the usual hour he had left again, wishing his dwarf a good afternoon, but not without confirming that Thorin would arrive shortly before supper.

Of course Thorin assured him of his timely arrival. He was always home at around supper, sometimes even for a late tea. But he didn’t think about the uncommon question. Instead he opened every window possible, to capture the slight afternoon breeze, before returning to work.

Against his prior expectations, he was running late when arriving at Bag End. Mistress Underhill had come around shortly before six, to pick up a big platter she’d had made for a dinner party with her mother and father-in-law. Chatting nervously about her married relatives, Thorin hadn’t had the heart to throw her out.

Instead he had tried to calm her, telling how overjoyed her husband’s parents had seemed at the wedding and that her adoring husband would surely support her through the whole dinner. Smiling gratefully, she had left half an hour later and Thorin closed the forge with haste.

When he returned home, he rumpled the hair of a hobbitling who was sitting beside their door, munching an apple. Thorin knew the fauntling. Thistle was a constant spy on his people, ever since last week. He was occasionally bouncing beside Fíli and Kíli when they were off to work in the morning, watching Balin and Dwalin constantly when they left Bag End. When asked why he was around, he answered with a shrug, “The thain said I can talk to the dwarrows. Mummy says I am not to bother them. But nobody said nuthin about watching.” Charmed by his proud smile about these ingenious conclusions, all inhabitants of Bag End provided him with drinks and food when they spotted him around mealtime. Bilbo even tried to clean Thistle’s face, whenever he got close to the small hobbit. Therefore the Master of Bag End saw a lot less of the boy than anybody else.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

As soon as Thorin entered the smial, he was surprised to find only Dwalin and Balin around. As usual, the oldest dwarf sat at the big table in the living room, pushing around papers, maps and more papers, while Dwalin was swearing in the kitchen, having a disagreement with one of Bilbo’s pots from the sound of it. Looking around for his hobbit, Thorin decided to ask his friends after freshening up after his long day. Because while he had already done so at the forge, the trip to Bag End had made him sweaty again, and he felt very uncomfortable in his damp work-clothes at the moment. He thanked Mahal that Bag End was built into the hill and was reasonably cool, even on days like this.

After having cleaned his face and upper body, Thorin reached for the stack of towels that lay beside the basin, only to find a note on top of them.

 

 

 

Turning the small note in his hands, Thorin swiftly went to his room and put on new clothes. Something like this had never happened to him before, but he felt excited about it nevertheless. When he remerged he found himself face to face with Dwalin, who held out a picnic basket to him.

“Do you know what …?” Thorin narrowed his eyes: his best friend was so clearly involved in their hobbit’s plans. But the warrior just put the basket into his hands and explained with a smile, “I believe that you already have your first clue. Why don’t you follow it and find out for yourself what is going on?”

Thorin couldn’t help but smile. The warrior seemed as excited as he was because of this game. Expectantly Thorin left the smial, only to find Thistle grinning up to him. Holding out his hand, the boy said, “Master Baggins said that I would get another cookie!”

Amused at the demanding tone, Thorin opened the basket and indeed found a big, chocolate cookie at the very top. As soon as he had offered it to the fauntling, the boy turned away from him and started walking. After a moment, he turned around to look at the dwarf. “Why are you waiting? I’m your _gide_. You are supposed to follow me, said Master Baggins. Hurry! My mum said that I wouldn’t get dessert if I am late for supper again!”

Laughing under his breath Thorin corrected the little boy, “You mean you are my _guide_. Well in that case my apologies for dawdling. Please, lead the way.” Smiling to himself, the dwarf followed the bobbing fauntling, until they reached the Party Tree. There his guide stopped and started rocking on the balls of his feet. When Thorin looked at him questioningly, the boy explained, “You have to find the next clue. That’s how scavenger hunts work!”

Looking at the child with bewilderment, Thorin started to walk around the tree, looking at the roots, the bark and at the branches for another tip. He smiled when he spotted a rolled-up piece of parchment in a knothole, halfway up the trunk. Sharing a triumphant look with his little guide, Thorin rolled out the note.

 

 

 

Wordlessly the child pointed towards the blue stream that slowly wound his way through the Shire, before smiling brilliantly at Thorin and dashing off, hopefully towards his home. Laughing once again about the charming escort Bilbo had chosen for him, Thorin made his way to the sparkling water. On a particularly large bolder, another note was positioned, weighted down by a rock, so it would not flutter away.

 

 

 

The running water splashed the river-banks at both sides, and the dwarf enjoyed the refreshment, walking alongside of it, grateful that it was past the hottest time of the day. And while a part of him simply wanted to dive into the cool stream, the excitement of what Bilbo might have planned for them surpassed that desire and made him hurry up.

After a surprisingly long walk – he had left behind the last smials a while ago – Thorin spotted a place where large boulders framed the water. From behind one of them, he could see smoke rings rising up into the air. Stepping around the large stone, he found his hobbit, leaning against the smooth surface. Bilbo had placed a plaid tablecloth on the floor, plates, cups, knives and napkins neatly piled in the middle of it. Spread over the boulder lay two big towels, which were soaking up the late afternoon sun.

“I was worried that you wouldn’t find me.” Smiling up to his dwarf lazily, Bilbo took another, deep drag from his pipe, letting the smoke fall from his lips and vanish into the clear, blue sky.

Putting his basket beside the one Bilbo had brought along, Thorin sat down on the blanket, strangely fascinated by Bilbo’s lips closing around the stem of his pipe once again, and answered in a slightly hoarse voice, “Your guide was certainly eager, but I was held up at the forge.”

Smiling at his fiancé, Bilbo asked mischievously, “Do you want a share?” Thorin’s captivation with the smoke had not eluded Bilbo, and when the dwarf nodded, and reached out for the pipe, the hobbit intertwined their fingers, dragging him a little closer. After taking a particularly deep drag, he leaned towards his dwarf, brushing their lips together.

Getting what this was about, Thorin opened his mouth and inhaled the smoke Bilbo was sharing with him. Drawing it deep into his lungs, he tasted the pipeweed on his tongue, but more than anything else, he tasted his hobbit on his lips, and didn’t that make the experience even better. Repeating the process several times, Thorin felt calmed down by the tobacco and finally leaned onto the boulder at Bilbo’s side. His lips were tingling from the repeated teasing, and Thorin had every intention to prolong their contact, when he felt Bilbo rise beside him.

Cleaning his pipe, the hobbit smiled at Thorin’s questioning looks. Removing his shirt, he laughed when he saw Thorin swallowing noticeably but when the dwarf made a move to join him, Bilbo shook his head. “I have sent you a message this evening. When you have figured it out, you can join me.” With that he stepped towards the stream, vanishing from view behind another boulder that surrounded their idyllic little resting place.

 

Confused by his hobbit’s words, but intending to follow him as soon as possible – especially because Thorin expected the latest rustling of clothes to be Bilbo’s trousers coming off – he pulled out the notes he had gathered. Placing them one under the other, he looked at them. They had led him here, so he surely had gotten their meaning. Turning them around, angling them differently, holding them up against the sun, Thorin felt a little at loss of what to do. They surely were beautiful. The parchment laced with a stylised patterns of petals, written on with two different colours of ink.

A brilliant smile lightened up Thorin’s features, when he pushed the notes closer together. Rising and ridding himself of his shirt at the same time, Thorin followed Bilbo’s path to the water. There, neatly folded on another boulder, lay his hobbit’s trousers. What made Thorin shiver slightly was that he could also spot Bilbo’s smallclothes peeking out from underneath.

 

The cool water of the river was a blessing for Thorin’s overheated body. The current was rapid and splashing him from head to toe, even though the water only reached his waist. For a moment he wondered, how Bilbo had overcome the swift flow, but after diving in and allowing himself to be carried around the curve Thorin spotted the hobbit, lying lazily in a shallow basin the stones had formed. As soon as the dwarf got a glimpse of him, his throat ran dry.

There in the late afternoon sun, his fiancé had splayed himself out in the hidden rock pool, lazily dragging his fingers over his round belly and slightly erect penis, eyeing Thorin playfully. Bilbo’s curls glittered with water and thousands of droplets seemed to wrap the hobbit in a coat of diamonds. The dwarf had to clear his throat twice, before he trusted his voice enough to be understandable. “Tonight I’m yours?”

 

With a dazzling smile, the hobbit confirmed, “Mine and mine alone.” Bilbo felt his desire rise at the look of his formidable fiancé who stood in the water somewhat reluctantly. After the last few weeks, the hobbit would have expected his lover to be bolder. But obviously it was very different for the dwarf to approach him in their darkened bedchamber, than in the late afternoon sun. Deciding on a whim, Bilbo added in an alluring voice, “As much as I am yours,” before turning around in the shallow water, presenting Thorin with his enticing backside.

 

Looking around, as if searching for a clue of what to do, Thorin’s gaze returned inevitably to the soft body that presented itself so beautifully in front of him. Until now he and Bilbo had always been close to each other, aiming for release in their interactions, because it was either very late, or one of them was dead-tired.

Never before had they had the chance to explore, to play, not since their very first night together. And although Thorin was sure that Bilbo could map every inch of his body, he didn’t know his fiancé as well until now. Thorin, unsure due his lack of experience, had never dared to explore Bilbo in return.

But now, without his hobbit’s gaze on him, Thorin felt a little braver. Slowly approaching the shallow water, climbing the step the river had formed, he took his time to drink in the sight of his gorgeous lover. He could hear Bilbo’s breath, his silent laughter, but still the hobbit bore his gaze and didn’t move. Instead he had formed a pillow with his arms, to keep his head above water, resting on it seemingly peaceful with his eyes closed. Had Thorin not seen him moving, he would believe his lover to be sleeping.

But this was not about rest, it was a chance, a gift for Thorin to take his time and explore what he desired; and in a split-second the dwarven prince decided that this was the best present he had ever received. Slowly he crouched over his hobbit, caging the smaller body with his broader one. He couldn’t supress a chuckle when he saw the hobbit shivering beneath him, as his long strands of hair teased his back. Yet, Bilbo didn’t move.

Encouraged by the easy reaction, the dwarf leaned down on his lover and buried his face in the crook of Bilbo’s neck. He inhaled deeply the wet smell of his hobbit, the earth, the sunshine, the lavender of his soap and the cool water from the stream. Thorin groaned silently, lowering himself to get as much contact with Bilbo as possible. As if the little creature had expected that, he started to move underneath the dwarf’s body in teasing motions.

“God … Bilbo.” A moan was torn from Thorin as his rising cock pressed between Bilbo’s ass-cheeks, sliding over the wet skin. But instead of moving away, the hobbit pressed up into his lover, turning his head even more, so that his lips were close to Thorin’s. “Yes, lover?” His breath, flavoured by the pipeweed, ghosted over Thorin’s skin and instantly the dwarf took the invitation and pressed their lips together.

Within moments Bilbo opened his lover’s mouth with sweet licks and soft nibbles on Thorin’s lower lip, and when he was finally granted access, Thorin keened into the contact, pressing closer, moving together with the hobbit. He wanted to retreat; a part of him told him that this was definitely wrong. Using Bilbo’s body as a means to an end couldn’t be right. But when the hobbit’s hand reached around, buried itself in Thorin’s wet strands, dragging the dwarf even closer, all reason fled his mind.

Fingers intertwined with those of his lover, dragging him closer, increasing the contact so that they were fused together, Thorin arched into Bilbo. The hobbit’s soft flesh around his shaft sent sparkles of pleasure though his entire body and he couldn’t resist the rhythmical movement.

In a last, desperate attempt to separate himself from his lover, so that he would not come all over his back undignified, Thorin forced his arms under himself, rising from the water. But his naughty lover followed his movements seamlessly and that position allowed Bilbo even better control of their movements, because he was no longer trapped under Thorin’s body.

He shook his head stubbornly, this was NOT right, satisfying himself on Bilbo’s backside couldn’t be right, but after a moment of tautness, he heard his lover’s voice, again and again, demanding in a whisper, “Look at me, Thorin. Come, my sweet, open your eyes and look at me.” Only when Thorin complied, eyes glassy, pupils blown wide, did Bilbo’s words register once again. Leaning down to his dwarf’s hand, kissing it tenderly, the hobbit assured him, “You can let go now. I’ve got you. Just let go and enjoy this.”

Languidly Bilbo moved his backside against Thorin’s engorged shaft. Understanding that this was what Bilbo wanted, the dwarf was finally able to relax. Pressing his face between Bilbo’s shoulder blades, licking over the wet flesh, Thorin moaned when his hobbit started to move again. He leaned into Bilbo, their wet bodies moving together until his desire peaked.

Enveloping his hobbit from behind with a strong arm, fusing their bodies even more, Thorin gave two more powerful shoves against the smaller frame and hissed when his seed spilled between their bodies. The encouraging whispers from his lover dragged out his orgasm perceivably indefinitely.

Thorin was breathing hard when his arm finally gave out and he slumped down, pushing the hobbit into the shallow water, shivering over him. At the edge of his mind he registered that Bilbo was once more talking to him, showering him with endearments while rubbing his arms soothingly.

After a short eternity, Thorin found the strength to slide off the smaller frame. His face still buried in the hobbit’s shoulder, Thorin asked in a low voice, “Why did you allow this?”

“Allow this?” Bilbo squirmed free of Thorin’s hold, turning around so that he could look into his face. Gently picking up water with his free hand, cleaning Thorin’s stomach and pelvis, the hobbit looked at his lover curiously.

“You … me … I soiled you …” once again embarrassed by his open display of wantonness, Thorin avoided Bilbo’s gaze. But the hobbit would have none of that.

Laughing amusedly, Bilbo nudged Thorin’s chin up, encouraging his dwarf to look at him, Bilbo splayed his hand over his naked body, emphasizing his pelvis where his erect shaft still pointed towards his round belly. Impishly the hobbit asked, “Do you have the impression that I didn’t enjoy what had just happened?”

“But how?” Thorin swallowed convulsively when he eyed the impressive display of Bilbo’s desire within his reach. Forcing himself to look up again, he found the sparkling eyes of his hobbit, telling him, “Because that’s what this is all about. Making each other feel good. There are no rules, Thorin; nothing is improper or wrong as long as both partners enjoy it. You did enjoy it, didn’t you?”

When Thorin could only nod, Bilbo continued, “As you can see, so did I.”

“Is this why you invited me?” Thorin felt a twinge of regret over having spent himself so early during the evening, because the thought of taking his time with his lover, free of nosy ears and eyes, was thrilling, as was Bilbo’s hand when his fingers trailed over Thorin’s chest, caressing the scars and his pebbled nipples on the way.

When Bilbo leaned into his dwarf, breathing against his lips, he revealed, “The reasons I invited you are so numerous that I wouldn’t want to waste my time explaining them. Let’s just say that I have plans for you, lover, and I want to take my time with them. Having you on edge all through the evening is not what I want. There will be plenty of that later.”

And with that Bilbo fused their lips once again, licking into Thorin’s mouth demandingly, and finally the dwarf was able to relax into the contact, seeking Bilbo’s tongue, caressing it with his own, dragging the smaller body closer, inhaling the hobbit’s scent deeply.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	34. Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After another quite pleasurable experience in the stream, our beloved characters will talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of shameless smut.

As always, Bilbo’s scent was equally intoxicating and soothing for the dwarf. He felt the desire rising in his belly once again, but having already found completion, Thorin wished to do the same for his lover. When Bilbo separated their lips, leaning back and purring as the warm water engulfed him, soothed the burning sun of the late afternoon, Thorin’s gaze zoned in on Bilbo’s shaft.

Tentatively he reached for his hobbit and smiled when Bilbo leaned into his caress freely, as Thorin stroked his side and soft belly gently. Like a lazy cat in the warm sunlight the hobbit purred at the tender strokes, especially when his dwarf allowed his hand to drift lower towards the hobbit’s pelvis.

“May I …” - “Whatever you wish, lover.”

Thorin’s question was as unassertive as Bilbo’s answer was eager. Opening his eyes, blinking at his fiancé, Bilbo gently trailed his fingers through Thorin’s strands, soothing his nervous dwarf. His voice was calm and endearing while he explained, “Whatever you desire, just do it and trust me to stop you when I am uncomfortable. I will do the same later. Remember, this is just about what feels good. Nothing else is important and propriety be damned.” With a playful wink he leaned back once more, closing his eyes, allowing his lover to explore his body at his own pace.

Cautiously at first, but getting bolder by the minute, Thorin stroked, petted and nipped at the soft flesh of Bilbo’s body. He drank in the sighs, purrs and moans of his fiancé, allowing himself to be guided by them. He learned that Bilbo’s nipples were sensitive, but that nails grazing his sides made him arch beautifully. He found that his hobbit enjoyed his cock being fondled, but lost his breath when Thorin played with his balls.

For an infinite amount of time the dwarf enjoyed this new possibility, touched and licked over wet skin, and finally crept lower.

 

Bilbo had to use his entire self-restraint not to arch into the contact, sinking his fingers into Thorin’s hair to drag his lover exactly where his burning body desired him the most. Thorin’s hesitant caresses and cautious pettings only inflamed Bilbo’s burning desire and when Thorin looked up at him, asking guardedly, gesturing towards the hobbits cock, “Can I…?”, it really took more than Bilbo had, not to arch up, pushing into his dwarf eagerly.

But having Thorin’s last try vivid in his mind, Bilbo caught himself at the last second, before he could reach for his lover. Restraining himself he nodded, “Of course, whatever you like, just … take it easy and start superficial. You don’t have to prove anything, Thorin, just enjoy it and stop when you don’t.”

Swallowing nervously, Thorin leaned down again, watching Bilbo’s erect shaft closely and after stroking over it tenderly, gave it an experimental teasing with his tongue. When he heard Bilbo hiss above him, he drew back immediately, afraid that he might have done something wrong. But when his hobbit looked down at him panting, eyes nearly black with desire, he became bolder and took the tip of Bilbo’s shaft into his mouth.

Circling the plum head, Thorin smiled triumphantly when Bilbo moaned at the caress. Maybe it wasn’t that bad that he didn’t have any experience prior to this. His lover definitely looked as if he was enjoying himself, so all Thorin had to do was to find out what Bilbo liked. Repeating the motion, enjoying the endearing sounds his hobbit made, Thorin angled a bit deeper, taking more of Bilbo’s cock into his mouth.

When he got to the point of gagging once again, he felt small fingers dragging him back. “Slowly, my sweet. Don’t rush yourself, you are doing great. Believe me, you are nearly perfect.” Proud of the praise, Thorin leaned down once again, encircling Bilbo’s shaft not only with his tongue but with his fingers too. Stroking over it, while tenderly caressing Bilbo’s balls, the dwarf had his lover keening for more in no time.

When he felt Bilbo’s fingers in his hair again, he allowed himself to be led by them, angling lower and deeper with every passing moment. Bilbo’s body was already flushed with desire and the fresh water of the stream did nothing to cool him down. It was thrilling for Thorin to know that he was able to evoke these feelings in his lover and when Bilbo started to shiver and hastily pulled his fingers from the dwarves head, Thorin looked up in awe.

He could feel his hobbits body shake under him with passion, and the earthy taste of Bilbo’s desire laced his tongue. But nothing prepared him for the fervour he saw on Bilbo’s face, when the hobbit’s gaze bore down on him. He felt Bilbo’s body arch against him and heard him moaning, “Don’t stop. You are doing perfect. Just … don’t stop, Thorin.”

Nuzzling against the shaft, enjoying the groan that fell from Bilbo’s lips Thorin demanded, “Guide me.”  
He wanted to make this experience as pleasurable as possible for his lover and only when the small fingers returned to his head, did he lower himself onto Bilbo’s cock again, teasing it, licking over its length before taking it into his mouth as deep as possible.

Bilbo encouraged this for a long time, longer than Thorin knew he would have lasted, but then he suddenly felt Bilbo tense up beneath him. Painfully Bilbo’s fingers drew him back, separating him from his body, but still the hobbit was arching into the fingers that were still closed around his hard shaft. The hobbit’s voice was hoarse and nearly unrecognizable for Thorin when he demanded, “Go on … this is perfect … I’m so close!”

But being dragged back, losing contact apart from his caressing fingers, was definitely NOT what Thorin wanted. Forcefully, not caring that it hurt, the dwarf lowered himself to Bilbo’s pelvis once again, swallowing the shaft even deeper than before. When the hobbit tried to drag him back once again, Thorin’s contradicting grunts send shivers of pleasure through the small body beneath him and with the most beautiful cry Bilbo spilled himself into his lover’s mouth.

Eagerly swallowing the seed that flooded his mouth, Thorin drew back only when he noticed Bilbo’s cock relaxing. He felt repeating shudders moving the body beneath him. But the brilliant smile of his lover assured him that everything was alright. Cuddling close to the hobbit’s frame, Thorin put his head on Bilbo’s soft belly and examined the now limp cock from up close. He even dared to touch it experimentally to find out how it would react to the teasing.

When he felt gentle fingers trailing through his wet hair, he looked up. He kissed the thumb that tenderly brushed over his lips and flushed profoundly when Bilbo told him, “That was unbelievingly amazing. Had I been aware that you could to this, I would have kidnapped you weeks ago, probably right after our first night together.” Flattered by the praise, Thorin hid his pink face in the hobbit’s belly again. Now he could understand what Bilbo had meant, the night when he had caught Thorin in the act. Bringing pleasure to another was pleasurable in itself, more than Thorin had ever thought possible.

After a little while a thought occurred to him and the dwarf asked, “Why did you drag me back when you were close?”

He could hear the smile in his hobbit’s voice when Bilbo explained, “Because most people don’t fancy the taste.”

“You never pull back.”

Laughing silently, caressing his lover’s head, Bilbo clarified, “Because I like how you taste. Like hot iron and wet stone, it’s quite pleasurable.”

Nodding once again, flushed because of the revelation, Thorin whispered after a few more moments, “Earth and lavender … and sunshine.”

Confused by the words, Bilbo rose to his elbows and looked down at Thorin questioningly. After a moment Thorin looked up and explained with a kiss, before burying his nose in Bilbo’s neck. “That’s what you smell like and that’s how you taste. Like earth and lavender and sunshine. There is nothing I like better in all Middle-earth.”

“Not even your gold and gems?” asked Bilbo teasingly, but was taken aback when Thorin drew back from him and looked into his eyes with so much sincerity that it took the hobbit’s breath away. “You are worth so much more to me than all the gold and jewels in Middle-earth.”

Now it was Bilbo’s turn to turn pink, but instead of hiding himself he reached for Thorin’s face and pulled the dwarf in, before sealing their lips together with a deep and loving kiss, secretly enjoying that he could taste himself on Thorin’s lips. When they broke apart, Bilbo touched their foreheads together and whispered, “Thank you.”

 

Pulling himself towards his lover, Thorin fused them once again, enjoying the gentle stream, washing over their heated bodies. Only when he heard Bilbo’s belly giving a noticeable grumble, did they rise from their comfortable position. Wading back through the stream to their blanket, Bilbo offered the warm towels.

When sufficiently dried, they sat down and inspected the content of the basket Thorin had brought along. There was cold ham and lukewarm roast, tomatoes, cheese and freshly baked bread. Wine and a small bottle of spirits accompanied the meal and in a bowl that was hidden at the very bottom, Thorin spotted a strawberry cake with whipped cream on top.

As soon as the hobbit noticed Thorin reach for it, he slapped his hand, dipping the dwarf’s fingers into the whipped cream accidently. Grinning Thorin drew them back and traced Bilbo’s lips with the white substance, before leaning in and licking it off.

Charmed by this playful side of his lover, the hobbit complied and opened his mouth for further inspection. One could never know if there was not a dot of cream left.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

They enjoyed their meal in nearly complete silence. Thorin and Bilbo passed bread, butter, cheese or ham between them, without voicing their desires. It was as if they didn’t need words when they were so close. Thorin enjoyed this companionable silence because his life usually resounded with the hammering of the anvil, the constant chatter of dwarrows and the howling wind and beating sounds that filled their mountain.

Bilbo - having lived as a bachelor for so long - had learned to be content in his own company. He enjoyed having the house full of guests, but that made him appreciate the quiet evenings or silent breakfasts with his dwarf as only companion even more. He enjoyed the fact that they were comfortable enough around each other, without the constant need to fill the silence with chatter.

From time to time Bilbo touched his fiancé, to gesture towards an item, to brush away a leaf, or simply to pull back a strand of hair that had tangled in the wind. Most of the time Thorin just smiled at him, but when the hobbit gently relocated one of Thorin’s new braids, did the dwarf catch the hobbit’s wrist and placed a most tender kiss on it.

After the meal Bilbo offered his pipe again. But this time they simply shared the tool instead of playing with the smoke. Bilbo had plans for Thorin this evening, and he wanted his dwarf as relaxed as possible, because after everything he had learned, he knew that it would be another first for his fiancé.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The stars had risen and the night painted the sky in the most beautiful dark-blue. The moon shone bright and enlightened their little camp. Picking up the last strawberry, dipping it in cream, Bilbo was about to enjoy the delicious fruit when he saw his future husband smiling at him. Biting off half of it, he offered the other half to Thorin, even though it was now smashed a little and the red juice was running over his fingers. Carefully the dwarf leaned in at took the fruit out of Bilbo’s fingers, but not without giving a teasing lick to them. When he didn’t close his lips around the remaining fruit fast enough and juice was running down his chin, both laughed.

Bilbo licked his fingers clean and decided that now was a good time to discuss a matter he had wanted to address ever since the wedding. “Thorin? I would like to ask you about the wedding, the public claiming to be exact.” Instantly he noticed his dwarf tensing up at the question, but still Thorin took his hand, and gently brushed his lips over Bilbo’s pulse-point. This endearing gesture had fascinated the hobbit ever since the first time. Obviously it was something like a “real” kiss for the dwarf, when he didn’t dare to approach Bilbo with his true desire.

Still the hobbit was much more used to open affections than the dwarf, so he accepted the gesture with a warm smile when Thorin assured him, “You won’t have to worry about that, Bilbo. I will find a way around it. We won’t have to be intimate in public. I promise.”

Shaking his head, Bilbo begged, “Don’t, Thorin.”

“Don’t what?” Looking up from the glass he had picked up, Thorin had done his best not to look at Bilbo at that assurance. But Bilbo’s soft words now forced his attention.

Bilbo’s voice was still gentle when he chided his dwarf, “Don’t say things you don’t even believe yourself. That won’t help anybody!”

„I don’t…” Realizing that Bilbo was absolutely right, Thorin lowered his head and whispered, “How do you know?”

Gently brushing Thorin’s hair back from his face, Bilbo nudged him a little so that the dwarf would look at him, “I know that look. In your case it says, ‘I have to find a way to fix this, but I don’t have the slightest clue how to do it.‘ I know it because I have seen it time and time again during your first month here in the Shire. I didn’t understand it then, but I do understand it now. So please, don’t tell me everything is alright when it’s really not. Let’s talk about this.”

Giving in with a sigh, Thorin revealed, “You are right. I have no idea how to avoid this. The public claiming is an ingrained part of our wedding traditions. A few centuries ago dwarven families bound themselves to each other by marriage, just because they wanted to add up to their wealth and status. Their children were nothing but means to an end. One of my ancestors, Thráin I, declared that a dwarf had to be publicly claimed by his partner, to prove that both desired to spend their lives together in holy matrimony.

“It has become a special event during a marriage ceremony. The more known the partners, the more excited the crowd to see them happily wed. It’s not an act of voyeurism – well it is, but that’s not the main reason for it. It’s to see that they both are happy, that both really want it. I will respect your wishes if you don’t want to honour this tradition. I understand that it might be too much to ask of you. Just understand that this is not about humiliating one partner, but about sharing their joy of being together.”

Nodding in agreement, Bilbo took a sip of his wine, thinking about everything he had heard and learned. „You said … after the night of the wedding, you said that it doesn’t necessarily have to be you who does the claiming. Were you serious about that?”

Thorin swallowed heavily and was glad that it already was so dark. Because the thought of being publicly claimed by Bilbo ignited a fire in his gut, a fire that was very hard to suppress. He was aware that it would be painful, but from everything he had heard, it got better, even pleasurable. He was not afraid of a little pain. He was a warrior. He had survived injuries and wounds that would have killed another, purely by holding on and proving to be too stubborn to die.

But being hit or maimed or cut open was different from being taken. Forcing himself to remain calm, concentrating on the fact that Bilbo was close, would be with him for the whole world to see, he evened out his breath and forced a smile on his face when he looked up. Leaning slightly into the caress when Bilbo cupped his cheek, he heard the hobbit ask in a low voice, “You were, weren’t you? But you are … unsure because of it, about the publicity of the act.”

Bilbo’s first impulse had been to ask Thorin if the prospect of being taken scared him. But realizing that this might only bring the stubbornness of his dwarf to the forefront, he had rephrased his sentence. He saw Thorin closing his eyes, leaning into his hand, but he felt his dwarf nodding a fraction. Stubborn, still so very stubborn, but at least honest.

„You said that for some people it is acceptable to be claimed in a more private surrounding. Only with the family and the king present, and maybe a scribe.” When Thorin nodded, Bilbo thought about the additional information he had gotten and continued, “But you are the future king. Your people will want to see you.”

Swallowing heavily Thorin admitted, “Yes, they will.”

When anybody got an inkling of the arrangement between the King under the Mountain and the Thain of the Shire, people would need even more to see him and Bilbo together, just to be sure that this marriage was what they both wanted, and not an arrangement that it actually was.

Remembering their past intercourses, especially the night when he had caught Thorin in the act, Bilbo asked, “When I came to your room when you were pleasuring yourself. You didn’t particularly enjoy me watching you.” When his fiancé shook his head in confirmation, the hobbit continued, “Was that because it was me who had caught you or because you don’t like to be watched?“

Thinking back Thorin admitted, “I was terrified of what you would think of me. Because … that is not something that is proper for a prince.” Allowing one’s desires to rule one’s conscious mind was something that had always been the ban of the Line of Durin. Prone to the gold-sickness of his lineage, Thorin had learned from a very early age that he always had to let is actions be dictated by his mind, not his yearnings. But that had not been the only reason why he had been embarrassed that night. Having promised to be open and honest with his future husband, Thorin added, “But no, you were not the only reason. I find no particular joy in the thought of being watched.”

With a smirk on his face and raised eyebrows, Bilbo gestured towards the open land around them. Yet Thorin only smiled and revealed, “You have made your opinion on public intimacy very clear. I have absolute faith that you would never allow anybody to watch us.”

Surprised by the accurate assumption, and honestly a little flattered because of the faith Thorin had in him, the hobbit lowered his head in a small nod and looked at his dwarf. A thought occurred to him, something that was a little delicate.

But the diffuse light and the peace and quiet obviously seemed to help his lover to be open about his feelings. Therefore he dared to ask, “Is that why you offered that I could be the one who does the claiming? Because you are aware that I don’t particularly enjoy being watched, and this is your treat for me to go through with it despite of that?“

Smiling at his fiancé, Thorin gently brushed back a rebellious curl that hung low on Bilbo’s forehead. He would have to redo his hobbit’s braids soon. His voice was calm and gentle when he said, “Bilbo, you have already done more for me and my kin than anybody could ever ask of you. I won’t subject you to a situation that you don’t like, by forcing my claim on you.”

„But you don’t like it any more than I do.” Bilbo stated in a confused voice. Why was Thorin making all of this about him?

Shrugging his shoulders the dwarf admitted, “No, I don’t find particular joy in the prospect of being taken publicly.” Especially because no one would ever forget that display. Thorin would effectively make a statement about the nature of Bilbo’s and his relationship by offering himself to his hobbit. With a small smile the dwarf added, “But I have complete faith in you, to treat me with dignity and respect. If … and I emphasize the ‘if’ - because I will NOT force this on you - I trust you not to humiliate me in front of my entire kingdom.”

 

And the truth was he really did. Thorin’s faith in his hobbit knew no bounds, even after everything that had happened. The countless times his husband-to-be had shouted at him, thrown something at him, even injured him with his own beads, it had always been Thorin’s doing that had caused it. On his own, without being provoked, Bilbo was the most caring and gentle soul in all Middle-earth. So, if given a choice, Bilbo would always choose right. There was no doubt in Thorin’s mind about that.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	35. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what it says in the title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: I'M BEHIND SCHEDULE!!! How did that happen?  
> Alright, I know how it happened, I had to work late yesterday and had an enjoyable evening with some friends so I will admit freely: I completely forgot about the story. My bad, very sorry :(.
> 
> Second: A piece of information that might be needed so that you don't get confused:  
> In my mind, Khuzdul is the native tongue of the dwarves. It IS sacred and NOT taught to anybody who is not a dwarf, but it is not learned later in life but the language they all grow up with.
> 
> I hope I was able to fulfill all of your expectations. I really wanted to make it good.

If that was not the meanest, stupidest most undignified thing he had ever heard he would not want to be called Bilbo Baggins. Public claiming … fine, reducing the chance of marriage swindlers … fine too, but expecting someone to go through with the act he found no joy in was … well that was … quite honestly in Bilbo’s mind that was no better than rape. Public rape on top of that!

How could they?! Well he would definitely not have them doing that to his fiancé! No sir, not a chance. And he didn’t even care that his opponent would most likely be Thráin, King under the Mountain. Thorin was his and his alone. He would treat him with the respect and all the dignity one could expect from a hobbit.

 

After a few moments of silent fuming, where his fiancé looked at him with worry, Bilbo realized that the public claiming was one part of Thorin’s nervousness, them being together was another. Bilbo had chosen this place because it was secluded, no one would find them here. And most importantly, it was the most beautiful spot in the entire Shire, apart from the Party Meadow in springtime. The boulders here were deep grey, smooth on the edges because of the wind, the weather and countless generations of hobbits spending their time here. The river ran swiftly but formed a shallow basin where one could relax and rejuvenate after a hot day such as this one.

Realizing that his future husband had no particular desire to continue this discussion, Bilbo rose and brushed his lips over Thorin’s hand. Winking at him when the dwarf’s forehead creased in confusion, the hobbit relieved himself from his clothes once again and returned to the water, trusting that his fiancé would follow.

 

Pushing away all thoughts of what was expected of them in the mountains; Thorin drank the last sip of his wine before taking off his clothes as well. He had enjoyed their interactions earlier, and quite honestly, right now, under the sparkling night sky in the Shire, he would enjoy them again, at least if his fiancé was willing. The wink made him hopeful that his hobbit would pick up their play again.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Reaching the flat stone, Bilbo checked on the oil he had placed here during his first trip. He had asked Thorin to allow him to be his teacher in the affairs of the body and tonight he had created the perfect environment for a lesson.

He wanted to show his dwarf that loving another person could be overwhelmingly pleasurable. So he tried to lean back and relax and NOT think of his lover, of his strong body, his broad chest, his gorgeously small, naked feet Bilbo constantly wanted to nibble on, but had refrained from doing so because in his mind that felt a little weird and he didn’t want to scare his dwarf away.

His plans to cool down his blood, to keep his composure all through the evening, were spoiled spectacularly when Thorin approached him, his magnificent body wet from the stream, illuminated by white light of the moon. His dark hair surrounded his shoulders and fell over his back, more beautiful than any gown ever could. Bilbo felt his blood-pressure rise and as soon as Thorin climbed onto the stone he lay upon, the hobbit rose to his knees and pulled his lover in for the most passionate of kisses.

 

Thorin definitely would not protest when his hobbit scrambled up to him and pressed in for a kiss that nearly took his breath away. Burying his fingers in the wet curls that shone like dark copper in the moonlight, Thorin leaned over, claiming Bilbo’s mouth with his own and felt the hobbit crouch even closer. Small fingers started to caress his back, trailed over his hips, gently cupped his arse to pull him in even further. After a seemingly indefinite amount of time, Bilbo finally drew back.

The lovers looked at each other, lips swollen from the passionate encounter, eyes glassy and full of desire. Thorin didn’t resist when Bilbo retreated and dragged him with him. Gently the hobbit guided his dwarf towards the end of the stone basin, nudging him to lie down in the shallow water. Thorin could only smile at the gesture, when Bilbo leaned down, and playfully started to nuzzle at his chest.

His fingers, his lips, even his tongue painted the most enticing patterns over the dwarf’s skin, paying special attention to his lover’s nipples and the patch of soft, black hair that ran from Thorin’s navel down to his cock. His dwarf was already panting heavily when Bilbo finally reached his engorged shaft and when the hobbit closed his mouth around the tip Thorin arched up, right into the hobbits mouth.

Purring because of the adorable picture Thorin was providing him with, Bilbo took his lover deeper into his mouth, adjusting slightly, pulling back and leaning down again. He took his time, enjoying the feeling and the taste of his fiancé, while his fingers travelled over his dwarf’s thighs and met in the middle to gently caress his balls. It was easy for Bilbo to dip his fingers even lower. Thorin’s body was floating slightly and so the hobbit had no problems to raise his lover a little to be able to get his hands on his dwarf’s gorgeous butt.

But before he touched him Bilbo raised his head and searched for the eyes of his lover. When Thorin looked down at him, wondering why Bilbo had stopped, he met the eyes of the hobbit, who looked up at him with a gentle smile. „I would very much like to make love to you tonight, Thorin. Will you let me?” And with that Bilbo’s fingertips ghosted over his dwarf’s backside, teasing the puckered entrance for a moment.

At first Thorin tensed up and instantly Bilbo stilled his movement. He wanted his dwarf; all the Valar knew how very much he wanted him. But he would neither trick his lover, nor leave him oblivious of what was about to happen until Thorin was overwhelmed by passion and unable to resist any more.

Bilbo had already learned that dwarrows where the most passionate of people. But sadly his lover had been forced to learn that sex could be used as a weapon – a thought that made Bilbo want to return to Gentian and hit him again, and again and again. He himself would never subject his lover to anything like that; he would always tell him beforehand what he planned to do.

 

Thorin himself only looked at HIS hobbit for a long moment, until finally nodding his consent and leaning back again. Hesitantly he spread his legs a little wider to give Bilbo better access. His head was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions because while he very much wanted this, to be together with his lover, finally connect to him on the most basic level, he was unsure of what to do. So when Bilbo recommended, “Just relax,” Thorin couldn’t help but snicker because he was so nervous.

Lifting his head again, watching Bilbo’s lips and breath caressing his thighs, his pelvis and even his cock, he laughed and asked, “And can you tell me how I should be able to do that with you touching me that way?“ Smirking Bilbo nipped on Thorin’s inner thigh, something that made the dwarf arch up a little, before suggesting, “Well … then don’t tense up too much?“

When the hobbit rubbed his nose over the hair that travelled down from Thorin’s bellybutton to his cock, they laughed because Thorin was a really ticklish there and both knew it. Relaxing into the water, the dwarf said, “I will do my very best. But only if you promise to stop this tickling.”

 

In a sultry voice his lover answered, “I can do even better than that.” And with that the hobbit lowered his head down to Thorin’s erection again and swallowed its length. By everything that was sacred, the scent, the feeling, the taste of his dwarf was enticing beyond compare. Bilbo felt full to the brim, but wouldn’t allow himself to retreat even an inch before his need for air became too strong.

The tips of his fingers glided over Thorin’s buttocks, massaging his entrance in the warm water. A few times his lover shifted nervously and always Bilbo retreated, coaxing pleasurable noises from Thorin with a particular teasing twist of his tongue on the erected shaft in front of him, before returning to the task at hand. After a long while, his lover seemed relaxed enough, for Bilbo to dip in his finger.

Gently he led his dwarf’s body to the brink of orgasm with his mouth. Thorin was shivering under him when Bilbo slowly sunk his digit into his lover’s body. Deliberately the hobbit used his distracted lover to feel around inside him carefully. Twice he had to draw back, because he felt Thorin’s orgasm rushing to the surface. Every time he led his lover down to earth again, with gentle nibbles and kisses on his thighs and hips.

 

Thorin honestly didn’t know how much more he would be able to take. He was seeing stars already, and not because they illuminated the night above them. Bilbo’s caresses and kisses, his nips and tender bites on his flesh made him slowly but surely lose his mind. And when Bilbo finally sank his second finger into him, Thorin’s brain was trapped in a whirlwind of passion, with only one major thought surpassing all others, “More! Bilbo … please … more.”

He looked up anxious when his lover pulled back, worried that he might have said or done something wrong. But Bilbo’s passionate gaze, that zoned in on him like a predator on his prey, eased his worries. There was no chance that his lover, looking like that, didn’t want him. When his hobbit crawled over him, bodily brushing over Thorin’s burning flesh, cooling it in the process, Bilbo sealed his lips with the most demanding kiss.

The dwarf was helpless against the overbearing passion of his lover and yielded under him willingly. His body was aflame with desire and all he could think about was Bilbo continuing what he had begun. His lover’s intentions however became clearer, when he reached out and freed a small flask out of the clutches of the stone over Thorin’s head. Watching the twirling oily liquid inside of it, the dwarf looked at Bilbo questioningly.

 

Now came the tricky part and Bilbo was fully aware of that. Thorin had enjoyed their encounter so far, but it would be so much easier and safer to prepare him when he was laying on his stomach. That though was not something his dwarf enjoyed ever since the encounter with that cursed …

Bilbo drew a deep breath. He wouldn’t let this night be spoiled by thinking of that blasted hobbit. But he didn’t want his lover to tense up for the rest of his life, whenever Bilbo cuddled him from behind. Thorin was nervous now, maybe even anxious when someone reached around him. It obviously brought back bad memories, but his lover stubbornly refused to talk about it. Even Dwalin had noticed it one afternoon and had looked worriedly at the hobbit, after Thorin had brushed him off rather briskly when Bilbo had snuggled into him from behind.

Tenderly sweeping away wet strands from Thorin’s face, Bilbo demanded, “I want you to turn around now, my sweet. I don’t want to hurt you and it will be easier for me to prepare you, if I can see what I am doing.” Feeling his lover tense up immediately, the hobbit assured him in a whisper, “I will not reach around you, just touch your back and hips and arse. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

 

Thorin was well aware that his animosity against being touched from behind was completely unfounded. Bilbo was his lover and his friend. There was no logical reason why he should not like his hobbit touching him. He worked very hard on suppressing the horrible memories that arose in his mind, every time he was hugged from behind, but most of the time he was helpless against them. Angered by his own weakness he resolutely nodded and turned around.

Creating a pillow with his arms to keep his head above water, he forced himself to relax. This was Bilbo, his fiancé, the very hobbit who had promised to save his people; who had helped not only him, but also his nephews time and time again; who had welcomed Balin and Dwalin with open arms into his home, making them as comfortable as possible when away from the mountain.

Through a haze of his own thoughts he could he hear Bilbo talking to him, “… can’t believe how gorgeous you are.” He felt the small body covering his own, nipping on his neck, snuggling against his broader frame. Thorin could smell Bilbo, hear him talking, feel the smaller body snuggled against his back. No, he wouldn’t allow his mind to play tricks on him tonight. Slowly, gradually, the dwarf relaxed under the gentle caresses and the loving praises from his fiancé.

 

He was taut, taut like a bowstring, and all Bilbo could do was touch him, talk to him and assure him that he was there, he and nobody else. Little by little, Thorin relaxed and Bilbo worked his way down on the dwarf’s body. He realized that his lover’s erection had subsided, but he would not touch him, not in this position. However, there were other ways to set a body aflame.

Crouching lower, Bilbo uncorked the flask and poured a small amount of the almond oil onto Thorin’s spine. The oil was warm, having basked in the sun for a part of the afternoon, and with tender fingers, Bilbo started to spread it over his dwarf’s skin. It didn’t take long for the hobbit to draw forth the most adorable noises from his lover. Thorin swayed under Bilbo’s gentle ministrations, his interest in the hobbit’s intimate touch returning.

Pouring more oil, Bilbo lowered his hands, rubbing gently over the ring of muscles he wanted to loosen up, so that he would be able to take his lover. As before, Thorin went stiff for a moment, but after being gently coaxed and showered with compliments, he relaxed and accepted Bilbo’s digit again without clenching.

This time - with a far better leverage - Bilbo was able to look for the pleasure-spot inside his lover’s body. Having experienced this form of lovemaking occasionally, it didn’t take him long to get on the right track and when Thorin arched into his touch, shouting words in the language Bilbo couldn’t understand, the hobbit was sure that he had been successful.

 

Never, EVER in his whole life had Thorin thought these feelings possible. He couldn’t comprehend what Bilbo was doing, but his whole body burned for it. All he wanted was more, deeper, so much deeper and so much more. Chattering mindlessly, egging Bilbo on, he felt himself stretched again, even more than before, but Thorin couldn’t think about what was happening. All he knew was that he wanted these amazing feelings to continue.

He didn’t know where he was any more, didn’t think about Bilbo behind him. His whole existence concentrated on Bilbo’s teasing fingers and the hot breath of his partner that ghosted over his upper and lower back. He felt the slickness of the oil spread over his skin, sliding into his body at another push, a stretch beyond anything he had ever thought possible, but it didn’t hurt as expected, on the contrary: he wanted this, needed this so much that he wasn’t able to find the right words to voice his desires.

He felt Bilbo’s fingers moving inside of him, coaxing his entrance to loosening up, brushing over the sweet spot inside of him. And all Thorin could do was pant, his mind going white with every stroke of his hobbit’s fingertips. The dwarven prince couldn’t think any more, all he knew was that this was not enough. It was more than he had ever known, but still not enough for him. He wanted more, wanted his lover, wanted to be with him, to share a connection he had never thought possible. This was right; no pain, only passion, and everything he had ever desired.

 

Bilbo could hear his lover talking but couldn’t comprehend the words. The only word he understood was his name, repeated over and over again between strange syllables of a foreign language. The hobbit understood the tone, even when the exact meaning of Thorin’s words eluded him. The burning desire, the hoarse voice, that alone would have been enough to ignite Bilbo’s own passion, but the powerful shoves against his hand, the needy and demanding tone of Thorin’s voice, the hobbit had to gather all of his composure not to shove straight into his lover before he was ready.

When he finally felt Thorin’s entrance loose enough, the dwarf’s powerful frame shivered beneath him with passion and desire. When he drew back his fingers he could hear Thorin protesting instantly. When he turned around Bilbo could see that Thorin’s face was glowing with desire, his eyes nearly black. Only now did he find his way back to the common tongue when he begged, “Bilbo … please.”

Kissing his way down his lover’s back, coaxing his hips so that he would turn around, Bilbo reached for the oil one last time. The flask was nearly empty but the hobbit wouldn’t want to risk hurting his dwarf even the slightest. Not this time, not when it was Thorin’s first time. Gently caressing the shivering frame of his fiancé, angling him on his back, Bilbo pulled himself up, petting tenderly.

„I know … I just … you are so beautiful. I want to look at you. Is that alright?” Bilbo really couldn’t look away. The flustered body of his lover, shivering under him with need was too seductive to look away, especially when Thorin’s cheeks burned up just like the rest of him, colouring them in the most gorgeous shade of pink, at the praise. Clearly his dwarf was not used to receiving compliments for his alluring looks.

Slowly, torturously slowly and cautiously, Bilbo sank into his lover’s body. He felt his dwarf hold on to him, burying his fingers into the hobbit’s skin so deeply that they surely would leave marks. But Bilbo couldn’t care less at the moment. The feeling of his lover surrounding him was overwhelming. Gently, cautiously he started to move, willing to pull back whenever Thorin gave the indication of discomfort.

 

But discomfort was the last thing on the dwarf’s mind. Feeling Bilbo deep inside his own body, all he desired was getting his hobbit closer, nearer, even a fraction of space between them was more than Thorin could bear. Dragging him in, he wrapped his strong legs around Bilbo’s hips, fighting his way up so that his lips would reach those of his hobbit.

Bilbo’s smell, the feeling of his skin, his member buried in him, touching him in places he had never thought pleasurable before, was nearly more than he could take. Arching into the hobbit he hissed loudly when Bilbo finally started to move. The sliding of skin on skin in the warm water, the friction on his cock that was trapped between their bodies, all the dwarf could do was feel, feel and hold on to his fiancé who rocked above him, looking down at him with so much adoration in his eyes.

 

The needy touches of his lover, his dragging him closer, showing so much desire, was overwhelming for the hobbit. Never before had he shared himself with someone who had made him feel as if he was the centre of his entire world. Too soon and way to fast, Bilbo lost himself to his overwhelming passion and his body started to move on his own account. But instead of hurting Thorin, as he had feared, the dwarf only urged him on, reared into him and took him even deeper.

After a few moments of mindless moving, the haze in Bilbo’s mind cleared a little and he was able to adjust their bodies and the angle of his entrance. Mighty shouts he still could not understand sounded through the night and told the hobbit that he had found the perfect angle.

 

Reaching for the stone above his head for leverage, opening up even more, Thorin keened for every movement, revelled in every brush of Bilbo’s body against his own.

 

Seeing his lover spread out like that destroyed the last grip Bilbo had on his self-restraint. With unexpected force and great urgency he buried himself again and again and again and all Thorin did was encourage him in that rough language. When he felt his passion rising, Bilbo desperately buried his fingers in his dwarf’s strands and dragged him nearer. Claiming his mouth once again, pressing them even closer together, Bilbo cried out his orgasm into his lover’s mouth.

 

Never before in his life had Thorin thought that he could feel so blissful, so completely whole. His lover’s hands, his body, his arms surrounded him, enveloping him into the most perfect cocoon. And when he felt Bilbo shouting into his mouth, Thorin finally allowed himself to let go. Not once had he felt something entering his arse, but when his hobbit filled him with his warm seed, the dwarf could no longer deny his body’s needs.

He had held back, had tried desperately to rein in his passion through the onslaught of sensation, so that he had feared he would go mad with desire. But reaching his peak, losing the wonderful feeling of want and need when his lover was joined with him, had simply not been an option. Only when he felt Bilbo reach fulfilment, had he finally allowed his desire to overwhelm him.

His mind went blazingly white when his orgasm rushed through his body. Trembling through his peak, all he could do was hug his lover, though he felt like he could weep when he realized that their bodies were separating. He wanted to keep Bilbo close, close to his body, close to his heart, because the mere thought of losing his lover was more than Thorin could bear. Burying himself in Bilbo’s smaller frame, dragging his hobbit’s head in so that he could hide his tear-stained face in the crook of his neck, was the only sensible action he was capable of.

A tiny part of him wanted to let go, to release his hobbit from his hold because he was sure he was hurting him with his desperate grip. But the majority of his mind and especially his body found that impossible. All he could think was, _> Bilbo … my Bilbo,<_ and _> I love you,<_ and finally, _> Please don’t ever leave me. Losing you is the only thing I will not survive.<_

With dread he realized that he had spoken these thoughts aloud, because he heard Bilbo’s soft voice, calming him, “Shhhh … everything is alright, my sweet. Everything is alright.” When he looked up into the shining eyes of his hobbit, he expected Bilbo to draw back, to close off because of his confession, but instead his fiancé just gently brushed over his wet cheeks, kissing his forehead and whispering tenderly, “You know, sometimes in the future, I hope that you will teach me that amazing language of yours. Because I would really like to know what you are saying, when you are in the throes of passion.”

Closing his eyes, relieved beyond compare that the common tongue had eluded him, Thorin just lovingly kissed his hobbit, before relocating him slightly, so that he could clean their bellies from his seed. Self-conscious, he dodged the question, “It’s not important. I will tell you some day, but it’s not important now.”

Looking into the eyes of his lover, Thorin realized that Bilbo didn’t believe a word he just had said. But – in contradiction to their agreement – the hobbit let it slide, in favour of gliding down from the stone into the deep water. As he held out his hand to his lover, Thorin had the presence of mind to grab the nearly empty flask of oil before following him.

Toying around a little in the warm water, Thorin tensed only for a fraction of a moment, when Bilbo reached for him from behind, one hand on his belly while the other was dipping into the cleft of his backside, cleaning him tenderly. The dwarf revelled in the joyous kiss he earned for not turning around in his fiancé’s arms, like he had done for the last week, when Bilbo finally circled him.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Never before had Bilbo felt so content and so at ease with a lover. Though he realized that Thorin had been anxious about the words he had whispered in passionate bliss, Bilbo knew that they came from his heart. If his lover didn’t want to reveal them, he wouldn’t press the matter. He himself had thought about saying something very inappropriate; confess to feelings that had no place in their arranged relationship. But he had thought better of it. He had Thorin at his side, indefinitely and exclusively from the looks of it. He would be content with that and not expect more.

When they left the stream he offered the towels once again, but instead of putting on shirts and trousers, Bilbo only reached for his smallclothes. After folding his other clothes neatly, placing them on the blanket, Bilbo produced the big blanket he and Thorin had used during their nights outdoors, from the big basket he had brought along.

He smiled at his fiancé when Thorin mirrored his movements and finally stretched out on top of the cleaned picnic-blanket right beside him. Opening his arms so that his dwarf could use him as a pillow, Bilbo languidly untangled the wet strands, separating them and spreading them over his chest. A little unsure because they had not addressed that matter, Bilbo asked, “I take it you liked what had happened?”

 

Reaching for his fiancé’s hand, placing a loving kiss on its wrist, Thorin admitted, “This was the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Looking up at his lover the dwarf added, “Just like you.” With these words he pulled his hobbit even closer, burying himself in the smaller frame.

 

With a radiant smile Bilbo closed his arms around the tall body beside him and copied Thorin’s last words in a whisper, “Yes … just like you,” kissing his fiancé’s hair one last time, before falling asleep.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	36. Unexpected Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically: Honeymoon is over. Let's head back to reality.

The downside of sleeping outdoors revealed itself long before first breakfast the next morning. Though the night had been far more restful for Thorin than many before, the strong morning-sunlight tickled his nose and woke him from his slumber unpleasantly early. Looking around he realized that he and Bilbo had pushed the blanket away during the night, but the dwarf didn’t feel cold, nor was Bilbo shivering. So he didn’t reach for the quilt to cover them. Thorin didn’t want to wake his hobbit because he lay so relaxed and peaceful by his side.

After looking up, Thorin placed his head back Bilbo’s chest, listening to the steady heartbeat. The last night had been - without any doubt - the best night in his life. Never before had he had the feeling that there could be someone who completed him like his hobbit did. They could not be more different, and Thorin was entirely aware that he still didn’t know what would happen next week when the 100 days of summer were over. But as long as he could be with his fiancé he really didn’t care.

Thoughts of his father rose in his mind, of his mountain and his people. Bilbo had promised in his first letter that he would accompany Thorin to the Blue Mountains at the end of the summer, but nothing beyond that. Would the hobbit return to Bag End, and Thorin with him? Or would he expect the prince to remain in the Blue Mountains, like his duties dictated? Would his father accept his sister’s sons as suitable heirs, or would he begrudge the hobbit his decision to bind Thorin to himself?

The worst possible outcome was his father deciding that it was not suitable for him to have a hobbit as a husband. They would have to marry, there really was no way around that, but Thráin could encourage Bilbo to return to the Shire and force Thorin to remain in the Blue Mountains. The prince honestly doubted that his fiancé would contradict his father’s orders, even when the King under the Mountain had no jurisdiction over a hobbit.

 

Shivering slightly, hugging Bilbo closer, he suddenly felt his future husband’s fingers trailing soothingly over his head. Bilbo’s voice was thick with sleep, but clearly worried when he asked, “Are you hurt, Thorin? Last night … did I … did I hurt you?” Bilbo fought against Thorin’s constricting arms, until it became clear to him that his fiancé wouldn’t let him rise. Only when he gave up his try, Thorin answered in a whisper, “No, you didn’t hurt me. Last night was perfect.”

Clearly worried Bilbo asked, “If you’re not hurt, are you … worried?” The sleep vanished from his mind, when the shaking of Thorin’s body only increased with the question. Hugging his future husband closer, Bilbo started to rub over the dwarf’s back calmingly. He had to strain himself to hear Thorin’s question, “What if my father isn’t happy with how things have gone? What if he doesn’t want you in the Blue Mountains and won’t let me accompany you back to Bag End?”

Leaning back against his makeshift pillow, Bilbo thought long and hard. He had never thought of the possibility of Thráin not accepting his choice. After all, the king had been the one to agree with the “trade” in the first place. After a while a thought occurred to him and he brushed through Thorin’s strands gently. “And who will he send next year? If your situation remains the same and my grandfather - for a reason we will find - proves … ahm … reluctant to trade with the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains next year if your father tries to send me back? Who will he send to work in Hobbiton in exchange for the trade of goods?”

Nudging his fiancé’s head so that he would look up to Bilbo, the hobbit said with a smile, “I know the land around the Blue Mountains has to be fertile, there is too little population there to drain it. Your people might have strained the earth, but I doubt that in only five years they could destroy it. All you need is someone versed in gardening and farming. And who knows better than a hobbit?”

Smiling a little, Thorin went from relieved to confused, when a thought occurred to him. “But you are a scholar, not a farmer.”

Laughing, Bilbo admitted, “That’s true, but that does not mean that I cannot learn what’s important. And I assume that even I have better agricultural skills than the average dwarf, my garden is growing after all. Don’t worry, Thorin. I will make myself useful in the Blue Mountains. Your father will find no reason to view me as a burden.”

Relieved, Thorin nodded and relaxed against the hobbit’s smaller frame. But Bilbo could sense that this discussion was only the result of what was on Thorin’s mind right now, not the reason for his worries. When his dwarf didn’t say something for a while Bilbo nudged him a little and asked, “Why are you worried that your father will send me away?”

Forcing himself to remain calm, Thorin drew several deep breaths, but the reason for his fears pushed back to the surface of his mind, even stronger than before. Grateful for his partner’s patience, Thorin waited until he was sure that his voice wouldn’t waver too much, before admitting in a low voice, “Because I can’t lose you, Bilbo. I have lost so many, but I can’t lose you. I couldn’t stand it.”

“Oh Thorin.” Bilbo’s arms were unexpectedly strong when they enveloped his dwarf once again, soothing him, petting him tenderly to calm his agitated mind. “I have already promised you. You will never, ever lose me.”

Reaching to touch his lover’s braids, gently running them through his fingers, Bilbo assured him, “You said they are like promise rings. They make you mine and me yours. For a hobbit this means that we will spend the rest of our lives together. Maybe we will live in the Blue Mountains, maybe in Bag End, maybe at both places, depending on the season. But we WILL BE together.

“My Grandfather made a deal with your father, and if your king is reluctant to honour it, we will find a way to persuade him. Trust me, my sweet, we hobbits can be very stubborn when it comes to the things we want. And I want you. Don’t ever doubt that.” Angling his head so that he could see his lover’s eyes when Thorin looked up, Bilbo asked, “Do you believe me? Do you trust me that we can make this work?”

Only when he saw Thorin confirming his trust in his partner, did Bilbo smile and order, “Good. Now close your eyes again and go back to sleep. It’s too early, even for first breakfast.” When Thorin snuggled into him, the hobbit couldn’t help but laugh, when his dwarf’s beard scratched his naked stomach.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

After a long while Thorin asked in a low voice, so that he wouldn’t wake Bilbo if the hobbit had gone back to sleep, “Will it always be like that? When we are _together_ , will it be like last night?”

Bilbo thought about this, about the honest answer and about what Thorin would want to hear. But when he looked down and saw the clear, blue eyes of his lover, Bilbo decided to tell him the truth, because his fiancé didn’t deserve any less. So he shook his head and admitted, “No, it’s never going to be like last night ever again.”

He saw Thorin’s confusion and a fraction of hurt run that clouded the dwarfs features, so he continued, “It’s going to be faster, stronger, rougher, more passionate, more painful, less exhilarating, more relieving. It’s going to be better with every time we make love, because we will learn to know each other better, know what we like, know what we don’t like. And with the familiarity everything will become easier, because the uncertainty will diminish. So no, last night was the first time for you. You will remember that, always. But it will never, ever be exactly the same.”

Curious and a little uncertain, Thorin asked, “Do you remember your first time so clearly? Who …”

But Bilbo interrupted his partner with a laugh, “On no. I will not tell you who it was. You will start looking for him and I don’t want you to look at him differently, just because you know what I have done with him.”

“So I know him?” The question came equally eager and mischievous, but a part of Thorin was relieved that Bilbo kept the identity of his first lover hidden. The thought of someone else being with Bilbo, making love to HIS hobbit, didn’t sit well with him. So he opted for the next best question, “What was it like?”

Bilbo tried to remember and the clearer his memories became, the harder it was for him to remain serious. With a delighted laugh and a shake of his head he revealed, “Horrible, it was truly horrible. To fast, to rushed, a little painful, over far, far too soon.” And though is words were all negative, his eyes shone with affection and satisfaction.

“You see, he and I … we both were new to the ways of love. We wanted to find out what all the fuss was about, so we sneaked out of our homes one night and met in a hayloft not far from his smial. We were terribly nervous and though we knew that it would be best to ease the entry, we had very little at our disposal to do so. We fumbled around, and though we got the hang of it – more or less – we weren’t patient enough, so it hurt when he took me the first time.

“He was overly excited and spilled before I could find any pleasure from the act.  
And I have to admit that I wasn’t any better. Though I tried to prepare him sufficiently, I was still far too excited. When it was over and our tension ceased we nearly fell down the hayloft because we were laughing to hard. It got better after that, and after a few times we got the hang of it and even found it pleasurable on both ends. But I think that I will never forget that first, awkward night I shared with my cousin.”

“I was afraid.” Thorin admitted in a low voice.

Only to be eased by Bilbo immediately, “Everybody is the first time around. It’s an important experience and you should only share it with somebody who means a lot to you. That way it becomes special, something you never want to forget.”

“Did you love him?” His dwarf’s voice was barely more than a whisper, tensely awaiting the answer. After a moment’s hesitation Bilbo smiled and shook his head. “No. I love him like I love every member of my family. I am glad that he has found a wife and has kids and is happy. But I never loved him as in ‘I wanted to spend my life with him.’ I thought so for a long time, but I know now that it wasn’t true.”

Thorin admitted in a low voice, “You are right. If I knew who he was I would look at him differently.” Looking up he revealed, “I’m afraid I’m not any better at sharing than you are.”

Kissing his fiancé’s forehead lovingly, Bilbo assured him, “You will never have to share me with anybody. You are mine and I am yours. Nothing will change that. We have made a promise and I intend to honour it. But now go back to sleep, we still have an hour before we have to get up.”

And though Thorin put his head to rest on Bilbo’s chest once again, the hobbit could feel him crouching lower bit by bit. When the dwarf had finally reached his goal, the hobbit couldn’t even think about protesting, because Thorin proved to be a very attentive and very eager pupil when it came to the lessons Bilbo had taught him.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When they returned to Bag End, after having the remnants of yesterday’s dinner as first breakfast, they found Dwalin sitting grumpily at the kitchen table. His hand was wrapped in a towel and the tea-kettle had a slight dent at the side. While Bilbo unwrapped the warrior’s hand, Thorin prepared another pot of tea with a smile. “It seems that I’m not only one who’s defied by your things.”

Treating the burn Dwalin had on the side of his hand with a cooling salve and then wrapping it with a clean linen bandage, Bilbo refrained from asking what had happened. The warrior seemed personally offended by his quarrel with the hobbit’s kettle, and Bilbo was in far too good a mood to listen to him insulting his dishes.

Instead he revelled in the familiarity of his and Thorin’s movements in the kitchen, where he prepared scones and his fiancé provided him with everything that was out of reach, without even thinking about it, while cutting some ham and cheese and preparing omelette for second breakfast. Dwalin’s mood seemed to lighten considerably, when Bilbo touched Thorin’s belly, before reaching around him from behind, to get the salt. He really had no desire to burn himself on the hot pan in front of his fiancé.

Bilbo could barely hear the relieved sigh from the warrior, over the sizzling of the eggs. Only when he turned around to see if Dwalin needed anything, could he see the joy and relief, because Thorin had apparently overcome his aversion to being touched from behind. Bilbo had to turn around to hide his inflamed cheeks caused by the reverence and gratitude in Dwalin’s gaze when the warrior looked at him.

Second breakfast became quite an enjoyable affair, with a lot of innuendos of the boys who asked how their night ‘out’ had been. Naturally, being what they were, they had tried to find their uncle and their hobbit, but without Thistle as a guide and the clues from the scavenger hunt, they had only reached the gate, before realizing that they didn’t even know whether they should turn left or right. Only when Thorin shoved them down with a strict command concentrate on their meal and shut up, was Bilbo able to look up from his plate without blushing red up to the tips of his ears.

They all looked at each other in surprise when the doorbell sounded.

Helpful as ever - and not at all crestfallen because of his uncle’s dressing-down - Fíli instantly rose from the table to go to the door. After a moment the young dwarf returned to the kitchen with an official-looking letter. He handed it over to Bilbo, and realizing that the letter came from his grandfather and was sealed with the official signet of the thain of the Shire, the hobbit excused himself from the breakfast-table.

>   
>  Dear Mister Bilbo Baggins,  
>  Master of Bag End,
> 
> I hereby order you to attend the trial, dealing with the events that had occurred in the middle of Wedmath _[5. August]_ first in the forge, and then in the inn of our village. To our current knowledge you were one of two attendants present during both occurrences.
> 
> Regarding that one or more dwarrows - who currently take residence in Bag End - were witnesses, you may choose one to accompany you.
> 
> We will be expecting you at ten o‘clock in the Town Hall.
> 
> Yours,  
>  Gerontius Took  
>  Thain of the Shire  
>   
> 

Bilbo’s voice was serious when he called out, “Balin, would you please join me in my study?”

He left the dining room without returning to the kitchen. The dwarrows in the kitchen looked at each other in worry, before Balin rose and followed Bilbo.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo was looking out of the circular windows of his study when Balin entered. The hobbit simply gestured towards his writing-desk where he had put the letter. The elderly dwarf picked it up and immediately drew his reading-aids to study the paper. After finishing, the councillor stated, “You don’t want Thorin to accompany you.”

Shaking his head, clenching and unclenching his fists behind his back Bilbo hissed, “The thought of Thorin facing Gentian Longleaf again forces me to conquer the urge to hit that hobbit again. Repeatedly!“ Turning around he asked, “Would you accompany me, Master Balin? I’m afraid that I will have a hard time keeping my composure when in the same room with that hobbit.”

Thinking for a moment, Balin shook his head slightly. „I‘m sorry, Master Baggins, but I‘m afraid I have an important meeting to attend. Master Underhill made time for me to discuss wagons for our caravan and I already delayed him once. It would be rather rude to do so again.”

The hobbit and the dwarf looked at each other, because the events that had forced the shift of the meeting with Master Underhill would be the matter discussed at town hall today. After a brief hesitation Balin stepped up to Bilbo and placed a soothing hand on the male’s shoulder. “If you allow me a piece of advice: take Dwalin with you. He’s an experienced warrior and used to stand by Thorin’s side. He would stay by yours too if you asked him.”

Trailing his hand through his curls, Bilbo admitted, “I have thought of Dwalin, because he is Thorin’s friend. But I assumed that he wouldn’t be much better off than me, when faced with his best friend’s … ahm … defiler.”

Nodding, Balin revealed, “No, he wouldn’t be. Dwalin shares your urge for violence when thinking about that vile little hobbit. But my brother is a warrior after all. And he has been Thorin’s guard for many years. He has learned when it is acceptable to give in to such urges, and when it is better to rein them in. He might not look like it, but Dwalin is absolutely capable of being your voice of reason if you need it. He shares your care for his prince and I know he likes you because …“

Bilbo looked up at Balin in confusion - he was not used for his dwarrows to admit to their feelings so easily – and immediately he had to lower his gaze again, embarrassed because of the reverence in the dwarf’s look when Balin revealed, “… because you make our prince happy. Thorin has had a lot on his shoulders, even after his father got better again after Moria. He still is the crown prince and his duties are numerous. With you Thorin can relax like with no one else. You have proven yourself a fierce protector of our people, Master Baggins. That goes neither unnoticed, nor unrewarded.”

Grateful for the advice, Bilbo returned to the kitchen and finished his breakfast in silence. He avoided the questioning looks of Thorin and Fíli and Kíli and promised to tell them in the evening what was going on. He didn’t know how he felt about the trial. He was well aware that hitting another hobbit was a serious offence. But touching someone who was unwilling was even worse. He wanted to have faith in his grandfather, but he was worried nevertheless.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

He was throwing his fifth waistcoat on the bed, still only clad in his trousers, shivering slightly from the breeze and having slept so little. His cream dress shirt already lay on his bed, accompanied by a royal blue coat that, together with his light-beige trousers, gave him an air of respectability that fitted a Baggins of Bag End. But he still needed a waistcoat. Grumbling angrily because nothing in his wardrobe seemed to fit the occasion, he stormed to another of the numerous rooms in his smial that held clothing. This was a serious matter and he needed to present himself as dignified and respectable as possible.

He just held an embroidered beige waistcoat in front of his frame, admiring the rich cloth, when he heard a sharp intake of breath from the door. Dwalin was upon him in a heartbeat, reaching for his arms.

Immediately Bilbo shrank back at the swift approach, because the warrior was clad in his full armour and weaponry. Quite honestly, Dwalin was a sight to behold, intimidating for anybody who didn’t know him and – in Bilbo’s case – even those who did. Never before had the hobbit seen the dwarf look so fierce, not even on their first day, when he had looked truly grumpy because he had expected to see his friend as a kind of lower servant.

Ignoring Bilbo’s attempt to pull back, Dwalin reached his arm and turned it into the light. Big, blue spots at equal intervals painted Bilbo’s upper arms, and with a furious hiss the warrior noticed even his sides, at least the part that was visible over the hobbit’s trousers. “What happened to you, Bilbo? Who did this?” The warrior’s voice was vengeful and vicious at that question, but his face showed his concern.

Calling himself stupid silently, Bilbo forcefully pulled back his hand, relying on the fact that the warrior wouldn’t want to hurt him further. As expected, Dwalin did let him go and looked at the hobbit with so much worry and concern that Bilbo could only snicker, his nervousness receded.

Raising his chin rather defiantly the hobbit crossed his arms in front of his chest and chided the dwarf, “First of all, it’s polite to knock before entering a room. Second, it’s not suitable at all(!) that you look at me half naked. So please stop scrutinizing me and turn around. And last but not least, if you allow yourself a moment’s reflection, you will realize on your own who did this to me. Especially, because you nearly gave me an identical set of bruises right now.”

Turning his arm around, revealing that there were exactly five points of impact, like … for example … the fingers of one’s hand, the hobbit continued in a stern voice, though his face reddened up to the tips of his ears, “And WHAT has happened is so very none of your business that I won’t even THINK about discussing it with you.”

 

When Bilbo fixed the warrior with his stern gaze, the right answer occurred to Dwalin slowly and his face suddenly was equally touched by an embarrassed red colour. His answer came stuttered and terribly uncomfortable. “Ahm … yes … well … ahm … my apologies for barging in. I just … I just wanted to tell you that we should go. Ahm … yes, because … because it’s already half past nine.”

Bilbo nodded and instantly grabbed the deep-blue waistcoat and dashed into his room to dress. When he came out, his clothes and his hair lay in an orderly fashion. He nodded to the warrior and they made their way to the town hall. None of them mentioned the bruises Bilbo wore and who had given them. Dwalin because he really didn’t want to think of his best friend having sex, and the hobbit because he enjoyed wearing them too much as a temporary reminder of him and Thorin finally being together like a couple should.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tremendously talented jacobbyofblufyshe has drawn Belladonna's glory box. Luckily she has also given me permission to post it in my story. Please take a peek at chapter 8 where it is inserted now.
> 
> If you would like to see the original picture please follow this link: http://jacobbyofblufyshe.tumblr.com/post/54741551672/homestuck-in-a-rut-jacobbyofblufyshe-soooo
> 
> Thank you so very much girl for drawing this and even more for giving me permission to post it!


	37. The Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank's to Redone, a just sentence will be found for both hobbits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting a day late again. I try to keep a 3-day-schedule, but I was too tired yesterday to go over the chapter again after receiving it from my betareader Redone. But I promise you: It was worth the wait.

When they arrived at the town hall, a considerable crowd had already gathered. There where whispers and pointing fingers, which in Bilbo’s mind was rather rude. So he simply raised his head, nodded politely in greeting and entered the building that served as their town hall. Dwalin never left the position behind the hobbit’s right shoulder.

The warrior was a little surprised by the official surroundings. He had known that the town hall was used for social gatherings, but never before had he seen it like this: a courtroom with only three tables present. There was a wide table with the Old Took sitting at its middle, looking serious and authoritative. In these surroundings, without a baby attached, Dwalin could believe for the first time since meeting him that this hobbit was used to deciding over the matters of law and justice, protection and support of all inhabitants of the Shire. He had to resist the urge to lower his head as he did with his king, when the piercing gaze of the dark-haired hobbit fell upon him.

By the thain’s side sat two other hobbits with feathery caps. When the dwarf looked at Bilbo questioningly the hobbit explained in a whisper, “These are two of our three Shirriffs that protect the borders of our farthing. The closest thing to a warrior you can find among hobbits. During a trial they assist the thain by offering their opinion and when he makes a decision they don’t agree with, all three have to go into seclusion to discuss the matter. Our thain decides on our laws and their execution, but he can’t judge anybody without the support of his shirriffs. That should keep him from pursuing personal vendettas and make the judgement more objective.”

Realizing the advantages of such a system, Dwalin drew back slightly, so that he would not crowd the hobbit. He knew that Bilbo was not afraid of him and wouldn’t mind him being close. But the other inhabitants of Hobbiton looked at him with worry and slight mistrust. So he didn’t want to appear any more threatening than he already did in his full gear.

The proximity turned out to be an advantage, when finally Gentian Longleaf barged in. Head held high, looking at Bilbo with a mean snicker, he crossed the hall and put himself at one of two tables that stood before the magistrates. Dwalin just put his leather-clad hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, when he realized that the hobbit was literally shaking with rage at the sight of the wicket creature who had dared to touch his fiancé.

 

Bilbo took his place at the second table when the thain gestured him to do so. There was another chair for Dwalin, but the warrior decided against sitting down. Instead he positioned himself right behind Bilbo, touching him only the slightest fraction if the hobbit leaned back.

After calling the room to order (several hobbits had entered after Bilbo and Gentian and where whispering noticeably) the thain rose from his seat and read from an official looking document. “Mister Baggins, Mister Longleaf, we have gathered here to decide on the consequences of the encounters that happened last week, at the forge and in our local inn.”

“HE HIT me! Completely unfounded.” Gentian had risen from his chair and pointed at Bilbo accusingly.

Now it was Dwalin’s turn to get angry. How dare this despicable, little creature accuse Bilbo Baggins? He who had touched another illicitly. He who had said the meanest things about the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains. Dwalin looked down, because he expected Bilbo to defend himself, but contradicting his expectations, the hobbit was just smiling. He even reached behind to wordlessly comfort Dwalin with a small touch on his lower leg.

The thain cleared his throat and berated the hobbit, “I would appreciate it, if you would let me finish before speaking, Mister Longleaf. But while we are at it, Mister Baggins, do you want to say anything regarding this matter? There were witnesses, one is even standing behind you. Take that into consideration when you answer.”

With a polite nod of his head Bilbo rose from his seat, straightened his waistcoat and spoke up. “Yes, thain, I would like to say something. It is true that I hit Gentian Longleaf in the tavern. He was saying very disrespectful things about my fiancé and my house guests. Taking offence at them, I lost my composure. I am very sorry for it and I sincerely want to apologize.”

Turning towards the other hobbit, Bilbo lowered his head apologetically and continued, “I am very sorry for what I did. There is no excuse for my actions.” Turning towards the Old Took again, Bilbo stated, “I will humbly accept any punishment that you will see fit, Sir.”

When he sat down again, loud whispers broke out behind them. Even Dwalin leaned down and asked in an angry whisper, “Why did you do that? The little bastard deserved it! How can you apologize for it?”

Looking towards Gentian who seemed completely dumbstruck at Bilbo’s confession, and then at his grandfather who only smiled a little and nodded at him proudly, the hobbit explained, “Because my hitting him is NOT what we came here for to discuss. Gentian expected me to defend myself and thereby deflect the blame from his actions. One hobbit hitting another is a serious offence and I will take whatever punishment is decided on, but only AFTER we have discussed what’s truly important.

Now there is no reason to think about anything else but the occurrences at the forge. No one needs to question you. No one needs to call for witnesses. I made a mistake and I am not ashamed to admit it because under the same circumstances I would do so again. The thain will decide on a punishment and I will accept it. That’s how it should be. No we can attend to the important matter.”

 

Dwalin looked at Bilbo in confusion, but after a moment he realized that the hobbit was right. There was no reason to discuss Bilbo’s attack any more, not when the hobbit had admitted to it. So that left only one point to discuss: what had happened at the forge.

The warrior had to supress a growl when looking at Gentian, but Bilbo’s seemingly relaxed composure helped him to straighten himself, and resume his normal gloomy and intimidating look. He had been at the royal court after all, and a hobbit trial could not be worse than a council meeting in the Blue Mountains.

 

When everybody had calmed down the thain stated, “Now that this has been dealt with, the presence of the dwarf Dwalin, Son of Fundin, is no longer necessary. Master dwarf, you are hereby released from court. You are free to leave. We don’t need your testimony any longer, now that Mister Baggins had admitted to his attack.”

Clearing his throat Dwalin declared, “If it would be acceptable, Master Took, I would rather remain here with Master Baggins.” Relieved at the smallest of smile that lightened up the thain’s features, Dwalin settled into a slightly more relaxed posture when the Old Took granted his request.

 

Picking up the paper again, the thain of the Shire continued, “Now let’s concentrate on the events at the forge, earlier the same day. Is it true, Mister Longleaf, that you have touched Thorin Oakenshield intimately?”

The eyes of the Old Took now bore into those of Gentian Longleaf, but the hobbit just lifted his chin defiantly and stated, “He wanted it! He never, not once, said that he wished for me to stop! You can’t put the blame for these dwarrows being such wanton creatures, that they would accept anybody’s touch to find release, on me!”

It took a lot of Dwalin’s self-restraint not to growl at that mean accusation. But before he could react, Bilbo knocked on the table twice, to politely attract the thain’s attention. When the Old Took looked at him expectantly, Bilbo rose once again from his chair and stated, “I admit that I only witnessed a part of the scene, mainly the end, but I would like to bring to the magistrates’ notice that my fiancé had no chance to see who was touching him, nor has he asked for it in the first place. We have been intimate, but not once has Thorin initiated a public display of affection. So I have high doubts that he did so that afternoon. He had accepted Mister Longleaf’s touch as my own and only when I entered the forge did he realize that the person behind him was not me.

“Mister Longleaf was standing behind Mister Oakenshield, crowding him towards the anvil. My future husband had no chance to turn around. Therefore I would very much like to suggest that Mister Longleaf’s touches should be classified as unwanted, because they would have neither been requested nor desired, had he made himself known.”

The whispers once again flared up behind the tables where the other hobbits stood, but Bilbo only nodded his head to emphasize the truth of his statement, concentrating on the thain and the two shirriffs who were listening attentively.

 

After a calming intake of breath, the thain called the crowd to order again and even silenced the accused with a sharp word, before returning his attention to Bilbo. Darkly he asked, “So what you want to say is that you are accusing Mister Longleaf of rape on your fiancé’s behalf?”

With a sober look Bilbo nodded, “Yes, I am,” before resuming his seat.

“You can’t! You can’t put this blame on me. He wanted it. Had he asked me once to stop, I would have drawn back. There is no way you can colour this a rape, Baggins!” Gentian hissed viciously.

Instinctively Dwalin stepped closer to Bilbo because in his mind there was a very good chance that the hobbit would attack the Master of Bag End.

But in contradiction to the overly emotional reaction, Bilbo just sat at his table, looking at Gentian briefly before returning his attention to his grandfather. Slowly the thain nodded and sat down, conferred with his to shirriffs in a low tone so that nobody could overhear them.

 

After a few moments the Old Took looked upon Bilbo once again. “From your appearance with a third party, I conclude, that you don’t want your fiancé to deliver an opinion on this matter?”

Bilbo took a deep breath before shaking his head, “No, Master Took. It is my right, as Thorin Oakenshield’s fiancé, to speak on his behalf. And if the thain and the shirriffs are amenable to accepting this and keep Mister Oakenshield out of this, I would be really grateful. I really wouldn’t like him being in the same room as Mister Longleaf, for obvious reasons.”

Looking at Dwalin the Old Took asked, “From what I understand, you are associated with Mister Oakenshield. Regarding that we can’t question him, would you please give us your opinion? Do you think that Mister Oakenshield had willingly participated in this act?”

Gentian dared to interrupt the thain once more, shouting agitatedly, “You can’t expect this dwarf to speak the truth on another one’s behalf. Surely he will deny everything and paint me the villain here!”

Rising from his seat, the thain suddenly slammed his hand on the table, making everyone in the room jump. He bellowed, “You will hold your tongue, Mister Longleaf, until it is your turn to speak! Have I made myself clear?”

 

Shaking his head, Dwalin took a step back. “You can’t expect me to …” but before he could finish the sentence Bilbo had risen from his chair and stepped up to him. Gently he laid his hand on the armed hand of the warrior. The hobbit begged softly, “Dwalin, please. If you can’t speak here, the thain has no choice but to summon Thorin and I really can’t stand that. Please spare me this encounter and answer the questions.”

“Why can’t you?” Dwalin felt tremendously uncomfortable assessing his prince’s actions and the reactions in front of this bunch of hobbits. But he realized that Bilbo was right. The thain would need another opinion. He could be quite sure that Bilbo was partial, so his statement had as much value as that of Gentian Longleaf. Taking a deep breath, accepting the grateful smile their hobbit gave him, Dwalin once more stepped up to the table.

 

The warrior’s rumbled, “As you are aware, Master Took, I only found out what had happened when we arrived at Bag End seven days ago, after the little lady-hobbit had told us about the row in the forge. When we arrived there, Thorin was apologizing to his fiancé, explaining that he had not known that someone else but Bilbo had touched him that day. He was even willing to sacrifice his braids to make Bilbo believe him.

“I am aware that most hobbits don’t understand the importance of such an act. But for us dwarrows, our braids are one of the most significant decorations we wear. The braid of a dwarf shows the affiliation to his family, the beads reflect on his status and his position in our community. Only when a dwarf believes that he has brought shame on himself and therefore on his family, is he willing to sacrifice them, to spare his family the humiliation.”

The thain – being well aware of the significance of the braids, since Balin had explained it to him sufficiently – simply accepted that explanation and looked upon his shirriffs. Both confirmed their understanding before the questioning continued. “So you say that Thorin Oakenshield admitted his fault in front of his fiancé? If he admitted to his guilt, then why are we here?”

Once again Gentian drew in a breath, probably to support the question, but a sharp look from the thain silenced him before he could say a word. With a small nod the Old Took prompted Dwalin to continue.

Raising his chin defiantly, Dwalin spoke up once again, “Yes, Thorin admitted to his guilt. Dwarrows are faithful beyond the grave; never, ever would we take lovers if we are in a relationship. Thorin was well aware that he had brought shame on himself by allowing another one’s touch, even unawares. But he swore on his honour and his pride that he had not known that it had not been Bilbo who had initiated the contact. That doesn’t erase his fault, but it explains the cause of the situation. I believed him, as did Master Baggins after thinking about it, without any doubt.”

“It was his own fault! Even he admitted it himself!” Not able to hold his tongue any longer, Gentian Longleaf supported the part of the story that would lessen his own blame. But a sharp command from the Old Took shut him up instantly. The thain returned his attention to Dwalin, steeling himself for the next question that could not be more unfair, but had to be asked still. Because his shirriffs had to see the dwarf’s and his grandson’s reaction, otherwise he feared that they would not be persuaded by words that were spoken in defence of a mere stranger.

Looking at the mighty warrior and his own flesh and blood with a level gaze, he asked sternly, “I understand your beliefs Master Dwalin; nevertheless, could his words be a lie?”

Now it was Dwalin who slammed his fist on the table, and cracked it a fraction. His voice was thunderous when he shouted, “Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the future KING under the Mountain would NEVER dishonour himself or his family by lying!” Furious beyond compare, willing to dish out his opinion for once uninvited, the warrior turned around and pointed at the now shivering hobbit who sat at the table beside him.

“And you, you vile little bastard, can be happy that you fall under the jurisdiction of the Shire, because if we were in the Mountains, your LIFE would be at stake here. No one, NO ONE, dares to touch my prince! You …” the numerous words that followed were both incomprehensible, but their meaning was pretty clear for the hobbits. After all, curses sounded the same in every language.

Only when Bilbo dragged Dwalin by his arm, forcing him to turn around, did Dwalin slowly shut up and looked first at their hobbit and then at the thain. Lowering his head he admitted, “I spoke out of turn, I had no right to shout at you. I am very sorry, Master Took.”

Realizing only now that the whole room was abuzz with excitement, Dwalin looked around in confusion. He had shouted, right, but surely one dwarf losing his composure didn’t justify all this excitement. When he looked at Bilbo again, the small hobbit just nudged him towards the chair, and once the warrior had taken his place, he explained, “You called him your prince, your future king.”

Nodding, befuddled, Dwalin asked, “So? I always call him my prince, because that’s what he is. And he’s next in line to the throne, so he IS our future king.”

Bilbo smiled and gestured towards the crowd and stated, “Well, during this summer THEY called him their smith. No one knew who Thorin was. Not even me before I found the letter. Why should a crown prince travel to the Shire and work as a blacksmith? It’s kind of a shock for them.”

“Because he …” looking first at Bilbo and then at the thain, understanding slowly dawned to Dwalin what this was all about. He had to admit that the system was brilliant, to vote for a thain, to place two people at his side when he was deciding on the fate of fellow hobbits. But the Old Took truly was a sneaky genius. Had there been any doubt in any of the witnesses of this trial that Thorin was completely honest, they were vanquished now because of Dwalin’s revelation.

Hobbits didn’t have kings, but they were firm believers in a just system. They had faith in their leaders, therefore they also believed in those of the other races. Dwalin had no doubt whatsoever that Thorin would be treated with admiration and respect from now on – something the Old Took had to have been aiming for. Otherwise, what good would his presence here – the presence of any dwarf – do? There had been numerous eye-witnesses at the inn. But the thain had obviously wanted to support the position of his future grandson-in-law. That’s why he had asked Bilbo to bring one of his guests with him in the first place.

When the Old Took looked at him after his outburst, Dwalin just lowered his head in respect.

Calmed again, the old hobbit asked, “Now it is your turn, Mister Longleaf. Up to this point, you have not denied touching Mister Oakenshield. So it’s pointless to speculate if your actions had been premeditated. I would only like to know if Mister Baggins’s assessment is correct. Were you standing so close to the dwarf that he couldn’t turn around without dislodging you?”

Rising from his seat once more, now considerably less self-confident than before, the hobbit answered, “Yes, I was. But he is a dwarf, for heaven’s sake. He’s twice as strong as me. He could have turned around easily!”

Nodding, the Old Took whispered to his shirriffs for a moment, before asking, “From what I understand, not far behind the anvil is the forge. So would you say that it was a risk of getting you closer to the forge, if Mister Oakenshield had turned around, injuring you, maybe hurting you severely?”

“Yes, but …”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The rest of the sentence was drowned out because neither Bilbo nor Dwalin really listened any more. They had faith in Bilbo’s grandfather that he would deliver a fair judgement.

Dwalin leaned into Bilbo in confusion, asking in a low whisper, “Why is everybody calling Thorin ‘Mister Oakenshield’, all the time?”

Shaking his head in puzzlement Bilbo answered, “Because that is his name?”

Smiling slightly Dwalin shook his head. “What makes you think that? Because he introduces himself with it?” When Bilbo nodded, Dwalin clarified, “It’s a chosen title. During the battle of Azanulbizar, Thorin defended himself against the White Orc with nothing but an oak branch as a shield. Hence the title ‘Oakenshield’.”

Before Bilbo could comment on that, the thain and the two shirriffs rose form their seats and so did the hobbits and the dwarf. Rape was a very serious crime and all attendants of the trial had no doubt now that Bilbo’s accusations were justified. Gentian was glaring daggers at Bilbo all the time, but didn’t dare to approach him while they waited.

His friends, who had stood close before, now retreated visibly and were discussing everything that had happened in a corner of the room. Bilbo wouldn’t allow himself to become nervous. He would have faith in his grandfather to do the right thing, to protect his fiancé and prove himself to be a fair judge once again. He had upheld the law for more than thirty years in the Shire; no need to doubt him now.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The shirriffs followed their thain into his office at the back of the building, where they were able to talk freely. Sandorn Underhill was going for the liquor cabinet, pouring three drinks while Samuel Proudfoot opened a box of shortbread his wife had packed for him this morning. He placed it on the table so that all three hobbits would be able to reach it.

Gerontius fell into his chair, accepting the offered biscuits and the whiskey he took a small sip, before rubbing over the bridge of his nose tiredly. Samuel was the first to share his opinion: “You want to convict Gentian. You believe Bilbo without the shadow of doubt, do you?”

For a long while the thain just looked at his two shirriffs. He had worked with them for more than ten years. They were more often than not his voice of reason, and had always helped him to find a just sentence. But now they knew that he was personally invested and they had no trouble calling him on that. It would not do any good to deny it, so he just nodded.

After a moment, Sandorn addressed the most important matter at hand: “You are partial in that matter and everybody knows it. What Gentian did – IF he did it – was a horrible crime and deserves a severe punishment. But we have to be absolutely sure about it. I will back you with whatever decision you make, but for now we only have suggestions and speculations and the words of two hobbits and a dwarf who could not be more biased in the situation if they tried.

“I really want to do the right thing here. But we can’t convict a hobbit for a crime against a dwarf if we don’t have proof!”

Releasing a frustrated snarl, Gerontius placed his tumbler on the table rather forcefully. “And what would you suggest? That we ask Thorin whether he was raped? Do you really think that the dwarven prince would take such a question kindly?”

Gazing at each other, the two shirriffs nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what we should do. Although … maybe you could phrase it a little more diplomatically, thain.”

Looking at his friends as if they had suddenly sprouted a beard, the thain let out a barking laughter after a brief hesitation. With an affirmative nod and a relieved smile on his face he agreed: “Yes. That’s exactly what we should do. Come on.” They all wanted to do the right thing, so only one question was really important: had Gentian’s advances been asked for? Hobbits didn’t touch each other without explicit consent, so the same rules could be applied to a hobbit and a dwarf.

Relieved by the obviously so simple solution, all three hobbits made their way to the forge.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

It was only half past ten and Thorin was already sweating beyond compare. In addition to the burning sun, a scorching feeling in his stomach, regarding the unaddressed letter from this morning, made him feel a little sick. The sudden arrival of the thain and two feather-hatted hobbits did nothing to ease this sensation. Bowing respectfully, Thorin asked: “Master Took, Masters hobbit, how may I serve you?”

He still didn’t like that question very much, but the thain had an official air around him, and the dwarven prince didn’t want to endanger the progress he had made so far. So he willingly remained humble and respectful.  
He started to feel downright nauseous when the two strange hobbits closed first the door at the front an then the backdoor as well. With only a window to capture the breeze the forge seemed to raise the room’s temperature several degrees and made Thorin sweat even more.

 

Looking at his uneasy future son-in-law, Gerontius let go of the mask of leadership and gently guided the dwarf to the side. Looking at his shirriffs, he asked: “Does anybody has some mint-paste on him?” When Samuel offered a small pot the Old Took applied a strong smelling salve on Thorin’s wrists, his neck and his temple, as well as the pulse points in front of his ears.

Instantly the mint started to cool down Thorins skin and the fresh smell made him breathe easier. When he nodded his thanks, Bilbo’s grandfather retreated and looked at his two shirriffs. He didn’t doubt his grandson’s words, neither did he doubt Dwalin’s or Thorin’s. But as Sandorn had said, they had to be absolutely sure before convicting Gentian.

So he nodded towards his shirriff and the blonde hobbit instantly stepped before Thorin. With a brief pat on his shoulder to show his moral support he said kindly: “Master Oakenshield I am aware that you don’t want to discuss what has happened here, between you and Gentian, last week. But in order to find a just punishment for him, you have to answer one question for us. Just one question and then we will be off again. Can you do that?”

Suddenly Thorin felt sick again. So that had been the content of the letter, a summons to court. And while the matter involved him more than anybody else, his future husband had chosen to keep it a secret from him. He had talked about it with Balin but not with him. Did Bilbo think him so weak? Or was this just the way things would be from now on? He was bound to serve and obey, obviously without even being informed about the situation. Bilbo hadn’t wanted him there, so he was supposed to respect his fiancé’s wishes and fulfil his duties at the forge.

Yet it hadn’t worked that way. While Bilbo had kept him away from the trial, the trial obviously had come to him, in form of the thain and his two companions. He realized that the hobbits looked at each other and at him with worry, so he returned his attention to the matter at hand. Respectfully he stated: “Yes, Master hobbit, I can do that.”

Sharing one last glance with the others, the hobbit in front of him simply asked: “The day Gentian touched you, did you ask for it or gave your consent in any other way?”

Supressing a shiver when he thought back at that horrible day, Thorin took a deep breath and rose from the box. They all could think many things of him, that he was their servant, that Bilbo was able to make decisions for him, but in the end, when HE was confronted, he would show himself worthy to carry the name of Durin. Looking down at the hobbits serious-minded, he stated: “No, I did not. And had I known that it was not Bilbo standing behind me, I would never have allowed him to touch me.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

“Rise please.” Sandorn Underhill – one of the shirriffs – called the room to order when they all returned less than an hour later. Rape was a very severe crime, the worst that had happened in the Shire for a long time. Therefore the thain and his shirriffs obviously wanted to be in complete agreement on the appropriate punishment.

When the thain stepped up to the table, everybody felt nervous. The tension was almost tangible, but still they all stood silent in front of their thain and awaited his judgement.

In a grave and deep voice he stated:

“Gentian Longleaf, we have found you guilty of rape. There are few crimes more vile than that, and though we don’t share the position of the dwarrows who would take your life for it,” nodding briefly towards Dwalin, “we have decided that a severe punishment is in order. Therefore, from this day forth for the next five years, you will support the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains in any way imaginable.

“You will travel with them to their home, support them with your knowledge as well as your manpower. They will assign you tasks you will dutifully fulfil to the best of your abilities. Master Dwalin?” Turning towards Dwalin once again, the Old Took asked, “Do you feel up to the task of finding suitable duties for Mister Longleaf, when he is with your people?”

Dwalin, astounded by the judgement, nodded and promised, “I will take care that he will make himself useful for my people.”

Nodding at that statement, the thain continued, “Whenever a task is not completed to the best of your abilities and to the complete satisfaction of the person who gave it to you, another month will be added to your sentence. Mister Bilbo Baggins will take count of that. I have complete faith in him, that he will keep track of your record.”

“You can’t…!”

Desperately Gentian tried to interrupt the thain, but the hobbit just smiled at him and said, “Of course I can. But if you don’t like my judgement, I can ask the King Under the Mountain to send guards, and then you may choose the dwarvish jurisdiction over ours. Is that what you want, Gentian Longleaf?”

When the hobbit blanched visibly and started to shiver, shaking his head frantically, the thain continued, “As for you, Mister Baggins. I am aware that you plan to accompany the dwarrows to the Blue Mountains this autumn. So as a punishment for your inappropriate attack on a fellow hobbit, you will make sure that Mister Longleaf has everything he needs when in the mountains. A suitable place to rest, enough food, he’s supposed to work for them, he is not a slave to be starved and abused. I assume I can trust you with this task, no matter the reason that brought him here.”

Bilbo gave Gentian a long look, before returning his attention back to the thain, nodding his consent. “I will do my very best to make sure that he is well taken care of. I don’t regret what I did and I won’t lie by saying that I am able to forgive what he did, but I won’t allow him to be abused, insulted or hurt. I have been raised better than that.”

Gentian’s eyes flared at the insult, but realizing that his situation could get much, much worse, he refrained from commenting on Bilbo’s words. He just stood there, holding on to the table in front of him, listening to the thain’s decision.

 

“All of your assets will be frozen and handed over to a temporary caretaker. You may suggest a suitable candidate for that. Your pottery may remain open, because I am aware that you are supporting your extended family with your income. I would not want them to suffer for your mistakes and we will visit the Longleafs regularly, to make sure that they are alright.”

Looking at both Bilbo and Gentian, the thain offered a piece of parchment. “Assuming that you accept this sentence, please step up to the table and sign the papers. You too, Master Dwalin.”

As was expected, both Bilbo and Dwalin signed the document before stepping back, eying Gentian mistrustfully. The sentence was very hard for a hobbit, especially one who hated dwarrows as much as he did. The hobbit shook visibly, the shock apparent on his face.

Dwalin was informed that he should expect the hobbit tomorrow around ten to give him the first task. Obviously the verdict was to be executed immediately.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When Bilbo and Dwalin had left the town hall behind, the hobbit exhaled deeply, a powerful shiver running over his frame. The warrior instantly stilled with worry and put his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. Leaning into the comforting touch, Bilbo asked, “Keep him away from Thorin, Dwalin. I honestly don’t care what you do with him in the Shire, but I don’t want this person anywhere near Thorin. I don’t think I can handle that. Alright?”

Looking up at the dwarf, full of hope that his reluctance was understandable, Bilbo smiled a little when Dwalin leaned down and touched their foreheads, promising in a rough tone, “Promised, Bilbo. I don’t want that hobbit anywhere near my prince either. And while I admit that a dwarvish judgement would be harsher, I realize this one will be so much worse for him. And quite honestly, I will enjoy every second of it.”

Pulling back slightly, Bilbo looked up at Dwalin with a small smile, “After getting to know you, I would have never thought you to be so fierce and vindictive. Though the armour and the weapons could have been a dead giveaway.”

Tightening his vambrace, the warrior stated, “I am the royal guard of the crown prince and his family. There is NOTHING that I would not do to protect them and to avenge them, when they have been wronged. Believe me, Bilbo, you have not seen me vindictive yet.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	38. Traveling Parties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Balin's journey through Hobbiton and more dwarrows after their return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember, direct speech between '>' and '<' written in italics indicates that the words are spoken in Khuzdul.

The revelation of what had happened at the trial did not sit well with anybody. While Thorin was uncharacteristically silent, Fíli and Kíli complained about how Bilbo had gone without them. The discussion was finally brought to an end by the Master of Bag End telling them that Dwalin was a very experienced warrior, had protected the members of the Durin family longer than the two of them had been alive, and had been an absolutely suitable support for Bilbo when facing the magistrate, thank you very much!

When Bilbo and Thorin retreated for the night, it became apparent that Thorin too hadn’t liked being excluded from the trial. While he put himself to rest in the master bedroom, he was edging to the side, facing away from Bilbo, even when the hobbit joined him in bed. When Bilbo touched his back Thorin tensed up, so the hobbit blew out the candle and turned his body so that he could look at his fiancé.

Nobody said anything for a long time, but Bilbo knew that asking what was wrong was useless. He would most likely just get ‘Nothing, everything is fine!’ as an answer. Then he would get frustrated, most likely swat his future husband because he was being stubborn, and that wouldn’t help anybody. So he simply waited and occasionally trailed his fingers through Thorin’s dark strands, to show the dwarf that he was still awake and waiting.

It took Thorin nearly an hour before he finally asked with a thick and slightly angered voice, “Is that what you think of me? That I couldn’t handle the presence of that hobbit? Do you think me so weak? I’m not a traumatised damsel in distress that needs rescuing from her knight in shining armour!” During this speech Thorin had worked up his courage to turn around, simply because his anger was coursing through him so prominently that he wanted to see Bilbo’s reaction. He had commanded armies, for Mahal’s sake! He would be able to handle a simple hobbit.

He was prepared for an apologetic look; for Bilbo to be crestfallen because he had underestimated him. What he wasn’t prepared for was his hobbit to look at him completely dumbstruck. Bilbo seemed completely stunned by his question. Only after a few moments of collecting himself he asked:

“Why the hell would I think that? You have commanded armies, for heaven’s sake! You guided your people through Middle-earth. Why would I think you weak?” Completely baffled, the hobbit looked at Thorin, mouth agape.

“Then why …” the dwarf could only look at his fiancé when the hobbit suddenly threw back their blanket and stood, starting to pace in agitation through the master bedroom.

Bilbo’s words were barely more than a hiss, an obvious effort to keep his voice down and not notify every last guest of Bag End of their argument. “Because the thought of you being in the same room as that vile hobbit … The thought of you breathing in the same air … The thought of him coming close to you again, maybe even touching you … Hell, the thought of him TALKING to you makes me want to hit him again. Repeatedly!”

Placing himself at the foot of the bed, looking at Thorin who had sat up to look at him, Bilbo’s fingers clutched the footrest so hard that his knuckles showed white. His voice shook with barely supressed fury when he continued, “ _I_ cannot function properly when you two are in the same room. I would NEVER have been able to keep my head during the whole trial if you had been beside me and heard the mean things Gentian had said. I would have just jumped over the table and strangled him! And believe me, that’s not what we want, the punishment my grandfather found for him is much worse than anything I could do and I will enjoy every moment of it!”

Thorin’s face has lightened up considerably during Bilbo’s speech, and when the hobbit was finished, breathing hard, Thorin just crouched over the quilt and took Bilbo’s face between his hands, lowering his head to kiss his fiancé. After a moment’s hesitation Bilbo melted into the kiss and wrapped his arms around his dwarf. Burying his face in Thorin’s naked chest, inhaling the scent of his dwarf deeply, the hobbit mumbled, “I mean it. I can’t have him in the same room as you. I just can’t …”

Smiling tenderly Thorin manoeuvred Bilbo around, pulling him into bed. After readopting his place on Bilbo’s chest, gently petting his husband’s belly and side, Thorin promised, “Don’t think about it. Dwalin will take care that Gentian won’t come close to me ever again. You can go on your trip with Balin without worry. I promise!”

Looking up at Bilbo, facing the concerned eyes of his hobbit, Thorin reached for Bilbo’s hand and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of his wrist, tenderly he reassured his hobbit, “… never close to me … I promise!”

And only after that was Bilbo relaxing slightly under the soft caresses of his fiancé. It took both of them a long while to fall asleep, because while the hobbit calmed gradually down with Thorin caressing his skin, and finally drifted off, the dwarf lay awake for a long time. 

Never before had he known somebody who would lose his composure so completely when thinking about him in an emotionally stressful environment. And while Dwalin was his best friend and guard who took good care of his safety, his mother had been the last person on Middle-earth to become agitated when thinking about Thorin facing something he didn’t like. But she had died more than fifty years ago. So having somebody who not only cared about his physical wellbeing, but also his emotional state, was in some ways new for Thorin. But he liked it … he liked it a lot.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The next morning was marked by Balin and Bilbo’s departure. They would travel to the other farthings, talking to the local vendors to acquire goods for the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains. And while Bilbo was very excited to visit his entire extended family, the thought of leaving Fíli, Kíli and Thorin behind didn’t sit well with him. In the end the Durins practically had to force him out of the house.

The next problem of their journey presented itself when they arrived at the local stable where Balin and Dwalin’s ponies were accommodated. Used to travel by foot, Bilbo insisted that riding was not really his forte, but Balin obviously didn’t plan on giving him a choice. So after a few moments of adjusting the saddle, he sat on a sturdy pony, holding the reins as if they were snakes that would bite him if he moved them too much.

A few minutes out of Hobbiton Bilbo started to sneeze heavily. Pulling forth his handkerchief he blew his nose resoundingly and looked at Balin with a long-suffering gaze. But the old dwarf seemed unfazed. “We will travel to the Blue Mountains in little more than a month. You’d better get used to travelling by pony, otherwise you will be left behind.”

With that, he spurred on his own beast to move faster, and Dwalin’s pony simply fell into a monotonous trot behind him.

Reluctantly Bilbo had to admit that travelling by pony really was considerably faster than walking. A day’s march to Tuckborough, close to the border of the Southfarthing, took them only four hours and they were right on time for lunch when they arrived in front of the Great Smial. In contrast to Hobbiton, here the families lived in big smials all together. 

They were loud and boisterous, with children running underfoot constantly, but everybody greeted Bilbo with a thorough hug and even Balin was welcomed like a long lost member of the family. Instantly the two travellers were manoeuvred to a bathing-chamber to freshen up and afterwards invited to the table to have lunch with the whole family.

Of course the news about Bilbo’s engagement had already travelled fast, so they all wanted to know about Thorin, and the first afternoon was spent catching up on new and old stories and the latest gossip. Even children sat at Bilbo’s feet, gaping with awe at their distant uncle when they found out that he was engaged to a prince. A real prince! No, he didn’t have a white horse and a shining armour. Yes, he did carry weapons to defend himself. No, he was not there to defend my virtue, where did you get that idea from, little miss?!

Only after dinner, when most of the children had gone to bed and the women and men enjoyed their separate evening activities, did Bilbo and Balin find their time to enjoy a pipe in the tranquil gardens of the Great Smials. It didn’t take long for Hildigrim Took to join them. Calm and business-like he asked, “So, from what I get from your letter, Bilbo, you are here to buy supplies for the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains?”

With a serious nod Bilbo answered, “There are several hundred dwarrows who have – please forgive me for saying this, Balin – not the slightest clue about agriculture. In only five years they managed to wear down the soil around the mountains so that it would not sustain them any longer. Therefore the sons of Durin were sent to Hobbiton to persuade us to trade with them again.”

“That could not have sat well with my old gaffer,” mused Hildigrim, eyeing Bilbo thoughtfully. 

But the other hobbit just shrugged, admitting, “Well, let’s just say that grandfather came around.”

With a long drag from his pipe, Hildigrim looked at Bilbo and finally asked, “You don’t care to elaborate on that, do you?”

Bilbo just shook his head again, smiling. “No, I don’t. But please believe me: grandfather is okay with me being here. Otherwise I would not have come to ask for your help.”

Balin had sat by idly, listening to the hobbits while they discussed the situation. So far everything they had said seemed sensible, so he was a little astounded when their host suddenly let out a small laugh and accused Bilbo, “Yes, you would have. Because you wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass whether father was okay with it, when feeling you were doing the right thing. You are too much of a Took to bow to authority when you think them wrong.”

Puzzled by the accusation, Balin was even more astounded when his hobbit mirrored the laugh and admitted with a smile, “Yes, you are right. But thankfully grandfather IS alright with me being here. So you needn't fear that I might put you in a difficult position when asking for your help.”

Hildigrim Took only placed his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and briefly hugged his sister-son, saying, “I never feared that, lad. You are too much of a Baggins to come here openly and cause trouble. You would have found a way around an official visit and still tried to ensure our help. And we would have helped, Bilbo. No matter what my father would have said, we would have helped you. Especially after …”

Looking at his hands, a little lost, the other hobbit whispered. “Especially after what had happened to Belladonna. I so very much wish that I had made them stay that night. Had assigned a shirriff to accompany you on your journey. Had …”

But now it was Bilbo’s turn to comfort the other hobbit. Pulling him into a hug, Bilbo said, “If wishes had wings we all could fly. Stop thinking about it, Uncle Hildigrim. Stop burdening yourself with things you can’t change. Yes, I wish my parents were still with me, so very much that it sometimes hurts. But dwelling on the past won’t help anybody. We should grieve them, but we shouldn’t burden ourselves with their deaths when nothing will ever change it. That’s not what they would have wanted.

“Yes, grandfather was angry and very hurt. He placed requirements on the dwarrows for us to trade with them that were …” sighing heavily the hobbit continued, “Let’s just say they were neither fair nor just. But that’s in the past. We are here, I am here and I have his full support. So please grant me yours. We don’t ask for much. We don’t expect you to leave your own family starving. But we all know that your fields and orchards are rich and you will have food aplenty at the end of the season. Please allow us to buy some of it.”

“Buy?” Now it was the Took’s turn to look bewildered once again. “You were really serious about that?”

Now it was Balin’s turn to join the conversation. Pulling forth a purse from the various layers of clothing, he opened it and spilled the content into his palm. Gold, gems, jewels in the most beautiful colours glittered in the late evening light. “Yes, we were, Master Took. We are willing to offer good money for your support. We dwarrows are neither thieves nor beggars. We might be inferior in our gardening skills, but we are excellent miners. We can pay you royally if you are willing to trade with us.”

Looking from the purse to Balin to Bilbo and back again, Hildigrim asked, “But you are family. How can we take your money when you are in need?”

Putting a comforting hand on his fellow hobbit’s shoulder, Bilbo clarified, “Being engaged to a dwarven prince might make the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains extended family, but you still can take their compensation in good conscience. They can as easily spare that as we can spare the food.”

After that the head of the Took clan brought forth a list from his office that contained everything Tuckborough had to offer. After some bantering between Balin and Hildigrim, they decided on a suitable price, and while Balin deemed it far too low to be an adequate compensation, Bilbo reassured him that it was it was a fair price for these goods in the Shire.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

After another day in the Great Smial, Bilbo and Balin made their way through Southfarthing and then through Eastfarthing. Seven days became ten and when it was clear that they would not return to Bag End within a fortnight, Bilbo decided to write a letter and ask one of the merchants to take it with him. He didn’t want his dwarrows to worry about him. 

They had taken residence with a distant Proudfoot cousin in Swamp when Bilbo was confronted with a question that brought great worry to him. His cousin Danglion had asked, “When we sell you food for the winter, who will feed your dwarrows over the summer? Hunting only gets you so far.”

It was common knowledge by now that the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains were referred all through the Shire as “Baggins dwarrows”, and while it seemed to amuse Balin a great deal, Bilbo felt the responsibility on his shoulders grow heavier and heavier. He missed Bag End and his carefree life where the most serious decisions he had to make was what to make for the next meal or what gift to buy for the host of the next party he would attend. Now he suddenly was responsible for a whole clan of dwarrows and he was terribly afraid to let them down. 

After a sleepless night he decided to ask for more help. Help from very distant friends. Because he could not think of anybody better to understand how nature and harvesting worked through the season. After promising a covered apple pie for dessert, he found a hobbit that would bring his letter to Bree and find a traveller who would carry it to the east. The chances that it would reach the friends of his family in time were slim to none, but Bilbo had to try nevertheless.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Their small travelling party visited the Greenfields, Brockenborings, and when they reached Overhill, both Balin and Bilbo got really excited. They left their latest hosts right after second breakfast and – having learned how to ride over the duration of the last two weeks – it was Bilbo who spurred his pony on to reach his home sooner.

But even when in Hobbiton, Bilbo knew that he could not simply rush back to Bag End. He carried several letters, not only for the thain but also for various other inhabitants of Hobbiton. After putting the ponies back into the stables, Balin and Bilbo started their round to deliver the post. Of course everybody wanted to hear about their relatives, so they had lunch in three different smials before finally arriving at his grandfather’s home not long before tea.

Naturally the Old Took invited them to join him for the meal, but Bilbo and Balin had only one thought: returning to Bag End. With a smile and a cake Gerontius sent them on their way; and when the round, green door of Bag End came into view, the dwarf and the hobbit shared a smile and sped up their steps.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo breathed out in huge relief once the door was closed behind them. Putting his bag down on his mother’s glory-box he started to make his way to the kitchen to prepare some fresh tea for them. He froze when he found a dwarf with dark brown hair, artistically woven into three mountain peaks on his head, in his living room.

"Who are you?" Bilbo asked completely baffled.

The dwarf turned, and now Bilbo could see that the dwarf’s beard was also woven into three complicated braids with silver clasps at the end. 

Had the hobbit not been as tired and as worn as he was after his long travels, he might have reacted differently. But seeing a strange dwarf in his smial, stashing away knives, forks and spoons into a small bag, made him snap.

Dashing back into the entry-hall, he reached for his broom and instantly was upon the stranger, hitting him rather forcefully, all the while shouting, “What do you think are you doing with my mother’s good silverware? Put that back this instant! How dare you entering this house uninvited, you little thief?!” And that although the dwarf towered over him by at least three inches and seemed strong and pugnacious.

“I … sorry … I was just cleaning … could you please stop that?” Obviously the hairstyle was also a great protection against being hit over the head, because the broom in Bilbo’s hand bounced back and the hobbit lost his balance, which allowed the dwarf to pull the broom out of his hands.

At the same moment a silver-haired dwarf emerged from the kitchen, a tray with a steaming pot of tea and four cups in his hands, looking at the thief and the hobbit in confusion.

Another dwarf obviously took the cue to emerge from the depths of Bilbo’s smial. He was smaller and obviously younger than the other two. His hair only held several small braids and was mainly cut short, shorter than Bilbo had ever seen it on a dwarf. He studied a roll of parchment, oblivious to the drama, and called out, “Master Dwalin … I’m not sure what you mean by 2.705 ottles of oil.”

He too stopped dead when he saw the small hobbit, standing in the middle of his living room in angry confusion. 

Obviously being called by name finally brought Dwalin forth. Emerging from his guest-room he stepped up to the youngest dwarf and pointed at the paper, “That means 270 bottles of oil. I thought you are a scribe? Learn to read!”

Mumbling into his sparse beard the dwarf said, “I am scribe, not a cryptograph!”

 

Now Bilbo finally had enough. He had been on his feet – or in the saddle – all day. He was tired, he was hungry and he wished for nothing more than the tranquillity of his home. A home that seemed to be overrun by dwarrows all of a sudden. So clearing his throat rather pointedly, he declared in a loud voice:

“You have to excuse me, but I neither know any of you, nor have I invited you into my home. I don’t mean to be impolite, but I honestly can’t deal with this at the moment. Please feel free to help yourself to some afternoon tea and cookies if there are any left, but after that I would greatly appreciate it if you would leave my house and allow me some peace!”

When all five dwarrows in the room gaped at him, Bilbo lowered his head for a moment, before realizing that he was completely within his rights as a host. It still was his decision after all to welcome anybody in his home, as well as ask them to leave. So he raised his chin and finished, “I really don’t mean any offence, and I apologize for being rude, but that had to be said.”

 

“That … he …” the peak-haired dwarf looked from Bilbo to Dwalin and seemed completely at loss of what to do. 

But Dwalin didn’t take Bilbo’s “outburst” seriously; instead he banged his head with his brother in greeting, before stepping up to the hobbit, hugged him tightly for a welcome and gestured towards the three new dwarrows. “Bilbo, these are Dori, Nori and Ori. This, my friends, is Bilbo Baggins, the fiancé of Thorin and our current host. And that was your first dressing-down from a hobbit. Pray that you will never experience another because this one was really mild.”

The silver-haired dwarf was the first to recover. Carefully he placed the tray on the table in the living room, and bowed deeply. “Dori, at your service, Master Baggins.”

The silver-thief was the next. Putting down the bag with the cutlery, he too bowed deeply and introduced himself, “Nori, at your service, Master Baggins. I really only tried to polish your silver.” Gesturing towards the table where a bottle of vinegar, a small bag of flour and a few rags lay, he continued, “I was accompanying my brother and had nothing better to do.”

That was obviously the cue for the youngest dwarf to step forward. Scroll and quill still firmly clutched in his hand, he bowed, “Ori, at your service, Master Baggins. I’m a scribe in apprenticeship from the Blue Mountains and now that the 100 days of summer are at an end, the king asked me to come here and draw out the agreement between the hobbits and the dwarrows. My brothers just accompanied me to make sure I had a safe journey. I’m sorry if we are an inconvenience for you, I am sure that we will be able to find rooms at the local inn. It was just that Master Dwalin said that you wouldn’t mind, so he prepared one of the guest-rooms for us.”

 

Looking up at Dwalin with a questioning look, the warrior’s smile finally made him admit defeat. Shoulders slumping he apologized, “Of course you are welcome here. All of you. I just … I had a really long day and I am tired and worn and … please, I’m very sorry for shouting at you in such a rude way. And to you Master Nori I want to apologize separately: I should not have hit you with my broom. That was very … uncivil of me.”

Instead of taking offence, Nori just accepted the apology with a smile. Good-naturedly he explained, “Would not be the first time someone accused me of thievery. But I can assure you, each and every piece of your cutlery will find its way back to where it belongs. Polished and as good as new.”

Winking at the hobbit, the dwarf turned around to finish cleaning out the drawers of Bilbo’s bureau. 

Dori was the next to step up to the hobbit. Bowing slightly with a warm smile on his face the silver-haired dwarf offered, “Why don’t you just freshen up and I will prepare a nice and hot cup of tea for you. I have baked small cherry-tarts this morning, they would go lovely with it. Just sit down in your back garden, I will serve you immediately.”

The scribe just said nothing, but pulled back to allow Bilbo to pass. Looking at the councillor and the warrior with wide eyes, he retreated to Bilbo’s study without another word. Within mere moments Dwalin informed his brother that the king would also send the chef of the Blue Mountains to help with the transport of the goods and he had also heard that the princess had thought about coming here. Although both sons of Fundin dearly hoped that that was really a mere rumour.

 

After advising his brother to calm down Bilbo, the councillor stepped up to Nori, who now sat at the table, polishing Bilbo’s silverware. Keeping his voice low, Balin asked in Khuzdul: _> Why are you really here, Nori? We both know that the way here is not that dangerous. Dori would have been a sufficient guard for Ori. So … why did His Majesty send you?<_

Losing his friendly and supportive demeanour, Nori looked at Balin. His posture was strong and his gaze unyielding when he answered: _> What do you think, Councillor? The king gets a letter from an unknown hobbit who assures him that the contract is fulfilled. Only after you arrive, does he get a message from his son who informs him that he is engaged to said hobbit. No further information, no explanation of the details of the agreement. By Mahal, why would the king send his information officer into the field … let’s make a wild guess: maybe to get more information?<_

Now it was Balin’s turn to throw Nori a stern look. Folding his arms in front of his chest, he looked at the ‘information officer’ of the Blue Mountains. He had worked with the dwarf before, many times in fact, because the king trusted him implicitly. And while he didn’t always approve of Nori’s methods, the dwarf always produced the desired results. Balin couldn’t even say why he felt so discomposed at the thought of Bilbo being under the Spymaster’s scrutinizing gaze.

In a surprisingly defensive tone he asked: _> And what is your judgment without knowing him?<_

Mirroring Balin’s posture, the dwarf also crossed his arms and stated: _> In my opinion I have made very close contact with him, or at least with the end of his broom!<_ Sighing slightly he lost the strict stance and declared: _> Everybody seems to like him. Thorin seems downright besotted with him and the young princes sing his praise in the highest terms. Even your brother seems to like him and we both know how hard he makes friends._

_> That gives your hobbit a lot to live up to and I can’t even remotely tell if he is up to it. Everybody seems to be smitten with him, but I don’t have the slightest clue who Bilbo Baggins really is. And after more than a week here that’s an unfortunate situation, because he holds all of our fates in his hand.<_

Exhaling in defeat, Balin acknowledged: _> You are right of course. And I can’t keep you from anything because this is your game. Just … just don’t hurt him. Bilbo is a kind soul and ever since we arrived here, by Mahal ever since he knew of our situation, he tried his very best to support us in every possible way. I can’t keep you from fulfilling your duties to our king, just … he’s not a dwarf. Keep that in mind, Nori.<_

With a thoughtful gaze Nori studied the Councillor and confessed in a low voice: _> You see, and that’s where my troubles begin. Everybody tells me that he is doing his best to support us. That he is calling in favours and using his influence all over the Shire to gather enough food to bring us through the winter. But I would like to ask you something: Why is he doing it? I know about the correspondence between His Majesty and the thain. He will get a position in the council out of it and an affiliation with one of the oldest and most noble blood-lines of our people. Other clans would kill for this opportunity. I’m not worried about getting through the winter but about what is about to happen in spring when Bilbo will have time to take what is rightfully his by contract. Because a hobbit in the council … can you even imagine what this means for our people?<_

And all the sudden Balin relaxed. Unfolding his arms, smiling even he realized that Nori was completely right. As Spymaster to the King of the Blue Mountains, Nori was supposed to worry, was supposed to find threats for their kingdom even before they formed, but Bilbo … Bilbo would never be a threat.

Irritated by the sudden change in the councillor’s demeanour, Nori asked: _> You are not worried about this at all? This hobbit will have as much power over our people as the prince. How can you not be concerned about this?<_

Gently putting a hand on the younger dwarf’s shoulders, Balin revealed: _> Because I have something that you will hopefully develop in the next few days: I have faith in Bilbo Baggins. He was insulted, tricked and lied to and still offered his hand in marriage to the dwarf who had done the tricking and the lying. And that even before he realized who Thorin really was and what this engagement would mean for him. All he thought of were the horrible sacrifices his grandfather had demanded from our king and how to make up for them._

_> Look at him, Nori. Study our host like you would every other diplomat and guest of our halls, and you will see that Bilbo Baggins is the most caring and selfless creature in all Middle-earth.<_

_> But he’s a hobbit … how …<_ Nori seemed completely speechless after Balin’s explanation. In the past the Councillor had usually not been that trustful and open-minded when it came to other races. But somehow he was now, and the information officer couldn’t understand at all why.

Smiling and preparing himself to retreat to freshen up as well, Balin stated: _> Just look at him, Nori. Look at him with an open mind and you will understand soon enough. Bilbo Baggins will be the saviour of our people, in more ways than one.<_

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	39. Many dwarrows at Bag End and still more to come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many dwarrows can one smial hold?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update on Thursday!!! See, I can keep a 3-day posting-schedule.

After his first cup of chamomile tea Bilbo drew a deep breath and went back inside. He once again apologized to each of his new house guests and asked them to join him for tea. After a brief glance towards Balin and Dwalin, all three newcomers accepted the invitation.

At first they all sat on the wide bench in the back garden, looking at each other slightly hesitantly, because nobody knew what to say. It was Ori who finally broke through the tension, asking, “From what I understand, you have travelled the past few days to acquire goods for our people. Could you give me an estimation of what you will be able to get and how much of it will be available?”

Smiling at each other, Balin and Bilbo produced a perfect list of every sack of corn and basket of fruits they had been promised by Bilbo’s extended family and the hobbits associated with them. From the trade they came to the stories and after half an hour the laughter of five dwarrows and one hobbit rang through the garden. 

Ori piped up after a while, “That is really a lot. Are you sure that we will get all that? It seems a little over the top for just one season.”

When Bilbo looked at him questioningly, the scribe instantly lowered his eyes and bowed his head. Reaching out for the insecure young dwarf, calmingly patting his hand, the hobbit asked, “And when the winter is over, what will feed your people in spring and summer? The food for the winter is the most pressing matter, but your problems won’t vanish in the spring. You need to plant, in order to harvest, but that is only possible this time next year. In the meanwhile we have to find a way to sustain your people.”

Lowering his head even more, Ori whispered, “I was not aware that that was a problem, sorry, Master Baggins.”

With a serious look towards Balin, the hobbit admitted, “None of us were, until my cousin brought it up. But I promise we will find a solution for it. The Shire is rich and fruitful, we will get the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains through one year. And in the meantime we will find a way to prepare the soil for a rich reaping during the next year’s harvest season.”

Now Nori could hold back no longer: hissed, suspicion barely concealed, he asked, “Why do you go such lengths for our people? You are a hobbit. You have surely suffered from our king’s reluctance to aid you in the past, like everybody else. Maybe not personally, but from what I get, you hobbits are a tight bunch. You do so much for us, what are you expecting in return?”

It was a very crude approach, but Nori had grown more suspicious, the more the hobbit had talked about what they had been able to achieve. He had sounded so sincere and happy about it and it was impossible for the ‘information officer’ of Erebor to think that he would do it just out of the goodness of his heart. Normal people didn’t behave this way, not in Nori’s book. There had to be something more behind all this, and he would figure it out!

Dwalin was about to open his mouth and shoot Nori down, but Bilbo’s hard and commanding voice interrupted him, “Don’t Dwalin.” 

Looking at the warrior, the hobbit just shook his head, before directing his attention to the peak-haired dwarf. “What I ‘get’ out of this shouldn’t be any of your concern, Master Dwarf, and if you mistrust my motivation, I advise you to pay very close notice to what is happening over the course of the next month in Bag End. You don’t know me, and you obviously don’t trust me, and that’s alright. Everybody is entitled to his opinion, just please refrain of insulting me in my own home by suggesting that I have dishonourable, ulterior motives for my support. Because that would be really rude.”

Before Nori could say anything, Bilbo perked his head up, and after a moment all four of them could hear the entrance-door being closed and a pair of heavy boots taking a few steps inside of the smial.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

One set of feet, not two, could only mean one thing: Thorin had returned home. Faster than anybody could realize, Bilbo had risen from the bench and rushed into the smial. When he saw Thorin kneeling on the floor, removing his boots, the hobbit felt like a huge stone had been lifted off his chest. He hadn’t realized how very much he had missed his dwarf. 

When Thorin turned around he stopped in his tracks, drinking in the sight of his hobbit. His voice caught in his throat when he said, “Your grandmother had told me that you have returned. You were in town but you didn’t come to the forge.”

There was reluctance in his voice and uncertainty and Bilbo wished so very much that he could have spared his future husband these feelings. But when he had walked along the edge of the village, looking at the smoke that curled up from the forge, he had known that if he went there, he would not come out again. After seeing Thorin, leaving him after mere moments would have been impossible for Bilbo.

So he had dutifully delivered the post, had cut short the questions of his friends and family, and had returned to Bag End as soon as possible. He had wanted to freshen up, prepare a decent tea and hope that Thorin would be home early. Because what he wanted to do with his fiancé was nothing that should be done out in the open.

So when Thorin asked him he simply shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

The hurt was visible on his dwarf’s face, if only for the briefest moment, before Thorin nodded in understanding. But Bilbo would not have any of that; his fiancé was so strong and determined and yet so very unsure when it came to their being together or Bilbo wanting him. So the hobbit stepped up to his dwarf and gently cradled his cheek with his small hand, admitting in a whisper, “Because had I come to you, I would not have been able to leave again. You have no idea how much I missed you.”

Thorin drew a shuddering breath and touched their foreheads for the briefest moment, inhaling the scent of his hobbit deeply to calm his agitated nerves. After that he looked over Bilbo’s head and ordered imperiously, “Leave! All of you!”

Looking behind, Bilbo found all five dwarrows, bowing obediently, before returning to the back-garden. Smiling up at his fiancé Bilbo declared, “That was rather impolite.”

With a mischievous glint in his eyes Thorin stated, “Yes, but doing this in front of them would have been far worse.” And before Bilbo could protest or even think, his dwarf lowered his head and started to kiss his future husband breathless.

 

Tumbling and reeling through the smial they both made their way to the master bedroom. Kissing the hell out of each other, they plucked and pulled on various articles of clothing, until they were finally, blessedly skin on skin. They didn’t think about lube or proper preparation, because neither had the patience for that. They only slid against each other, revelling in the glorious friction their bodies created. 

Kissing, biting, sucking each other’s skin, Bilbo sank his fingers into Thorin’s raven tendrils, edging him on, pulling him closer so that there was no distance between them.

Thorin whimpered desperately into the contact. Because now that he knew how fulfilling lovemaking could be, touching himself had become an empty pleasure, devoid of true satisfaction. Having his lover close again, inhaling his scent, feeling his body under him was everything he had dreamed off for the last few days.

When they both felt their orgasms approaching they entangled with each other as much as possible. Thorin snaked his hand around Bilbo’s waist and dragged the hobbit in rather forcefully, while allowing his fiancé to explore his mouth with a deep and invading kiss.

They were silent, well mostly silent, when their peak crushed down on them and left them panting and shivering on the bed. Intertwining their fingers, legs … there whole bodies, they lay there, both breathing hard from the passionate encounter. 

It was Bilbo who found his voice first, asking impishly, “So, I take it you are glad that I am back?”

 _> More than you will ever know my love.<_ were Thorin’s mumbled words into Bilbo’s neck, where he licked the sweaty and sensitive skin, making his hobbit shiver again, smiling to himself when Bilbo quipped, “Westron, my sweet.” But Thorin had used his mother tongue on purpose, because Bilbo mostly used endearments after they had lain together, and Thorin had needed to hear that right now, after being separated from his lover for so long.

Rubbing his nose over the sensitive skin, he whispered in Bilbo’s ear, “So, I take it you are glad to be back.”

Purring under his dwarf like a cat that was petted, Bilbo admitted, “More than you can imagine. Although it was kind of a shock for me to find new dwarrows in my home.”

 

Both rose and freshened up and Thorin used that time to bring Bilbo up to date with the current state of communication regarding the Blue Mountains, the development of the caravan and the guests they should expect within the next week. Namely the chef of the mountain and provisions officer Bombur, who would most likely be accompanied by his brother Bofur and his cousin Bifur.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Dori, Thorin and Bilbo were preparing dinner in the kitchen, while Nori was indeed finishing polishing Bilbo’s silverware in the living room. Balin and Ori had retreated to Bilbo’s study, with the hobbit’s permission of course, and Dwalin was enjoying the sight of the three chefs whirling around in the kitchen. Of course he was included in the preparations for the meal. He was ordered to beat the meat until it was tender, slice up vegetables, even peel potatoes while Bilbo was kneading dough for some apple pasties, Dori was cutting cucumbers and other ‘sensible’ vegetables and Thorin took care of the other greens of the salad.

When the door opened and closed again, two voices greeted Nori on their way to the kitchen. For a moment Bilbo thought that they sounded a little worn, but who could estimate the state of a person who had just used a language he couldn’t understand. He smiled at a winking Thorin who offered him a wet cloth to clean his hands, before turning around.

Turning around Bilbo stated, “You are aware that it is very rude to use a language your host doesn’t understand, do you?”

Upon their entering the kitchen Fíli and Kíli froze at the sight of Bilbo. But before the hobbit could react, both let out a barking laugh of pure joy and zoned in on him. Hugging him fiercely, the boys instantly started to sum up the events of the last week. Speaking over each other, they chattered about the current state of Falco’s workshop, the growing number of orders he was able to take with their help, how beautiful the garden was and that they had watered the plants every evening like they had promised; but after half an hour, when they all sat with a light snack around the kitchen table, with the main meal simmering on the stove behind them, the topic returned inevitably to the fauntlings. 

How much they had grown. How many words they had learned. Because there really was no doubt in Fíli and Kíli’s mind that THEIR fauntlings were the smartest in all Middle-earth and about to speak fluently even before reaching their first birthday. The hobbit just smiled and allowed the two substitute parents of his cousin’s twins their illusions. They seemed too happy to be told about their inaccuracy, and in the end Bilbo knew that the Durins would not even be around long enough to attend to the name giving-ceremony of the babies.

Bilbo could still feel Nori’s eyes on him, but relaxing against Thorin, listening to the stories of his cousin’s home, the hobbit just searched for the dwarf’s eyes. Had he had the heart to explain, he would have done so. But interrupting his boys in their admiration of the babies was not something he was willing to do. So silently he conveyed the message, hoping that the dwarf would understand: ‘This is what I get out of this, Master Nori: a family.’

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The next day, shortly after returning from lunch with Thorin, Bilbo decided that he needed a few hours of alone-time to sort his thoughts along with his papers. Balin had already mentioned that he wanted to talk to Mister Underhill about another wagon for their caravan. Dwalin would accompany him, of course, and Ori would tag along, because someone needed to write down what was about to be acquired and how much it would cost.

Though diffident and timid, the little dwarf seemed very bright and Bilbo was looking forward to spending more time with him, especially after having been asked about the numerous books in his study that carried his name on the back. 

That left only Dori and Nori around. Bilbo suggested that the two brothers should put their talents to use and sent them out to the market-place with a long list of goods Bag End would need to restock its pantries.

In a good mood Bilbo returned to his study as soon as everybody had left, and started to sort through his notes, a small plate of cookies and a big pot of tea by his side. He was already through half of them, going over the possibilities of what to serve for tea that was nearly overdue, when he heard his doorbell ring. Irritated because all of his guests were used to just coming in, Bilbo closed his notebook and strolled to the door.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The dwarf that stood in front of it looked vaguely familiar but the angry glare in his face made Bilbo take a step back. Immediately the dark-haired figure followed and started to shout at Bilbo accusingly.

“Where are they? You, little hobbit, will tell me THIS INSTANT where the members of the Durin family are quartered! I want to see them immediately, to judge with my very own eyes how much you have wronged them. Just for your information: I don’t care about the stupid contract! You will NOT hurt and abuse them a moment longer. And you will tell me immediately WHERE I CAN FIND THEM!”

Towering over the hobbit, who surprisingly held his ground, the dwarf hissed, “Otherwise I will enter every room and search every corner until I have found them. And you will NOT like what I will leave in my wake.”

 

Eyeing the strange dwarf who looked down on him threateningly, Bilbo took a deep breath before glaring up at the dark-haired figure and took a step forward. In a strong and commanding voice the hobbit declared, “What you will do, Master Dwarf, is leave this smial instantly,” before pointing towards the door.

 

Completely taken aback by being thrown out, the dwarf started to stutter, “How can you … how DARE you?”

 

“How dare I?” Now it was Bilbo’s turn to get angry. Challengingly he said, “YOU have entered this house without permission and have done NOTHING but INSULT me ever since. I will NOT host such a rude guest in my home! So either you will adopt better manners, or you will LEAVE! Have I made myself clear?”

He folded his arms in front of his chest, and the gesture was immediately mirrored by the dwarf in front of him. With an acid voice the dwarf asked, “And what would be a POLITE way to talk to the suppressor of Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews?”

 

Bilbo had always thought that everybody was entitled to his opinion. But that weird dwarf was really going too far. Angrily he informed his opponent, “First of all, you use the bell like you DON’T want to yank it off its chain! Second, you introduce yourself and make sure that the person you are confronting is really who you expect him or her to be. Third, you wait for an invitation BEFORE you enter a smial. AFTER you are invited in, you make yourself comfortable and allow your host to serve tea and biscuits BEFORE asking any questions. Questions, not accusations! And during this whole process you use an INSIDE VOICE! Something I am not even sure that you possess.”

In an unbelievably rude gesture for a hobbit – but honestly Bilbo was beyond caring at this point – he took his guest by his arm and guided him outside. Fíli and Kíli used that very moment to stumble towards the gate, exhausted and clearly out of breath, looking from the stranger to Bilbo and back again.

The hobbit just advised in a warm tone – completely contradicting his angry voice from a second ago, “Boys, please just use the back-door. We have a visitor who does not know how to behave, so he will leave now,” before closing the door into the dwarf’s face.

 

Fíli and Kíli were shaking visibly, looking at the dark-haired dwarf with disbelieving eyes. But the dwarf only smiled lovingly and took in the sight of the two boys before stepping up to them and enveloping them in a bone-crushing hug. The words were calm now, a mere whisper, “I have missed you so much, my jewels.”

The boys gave a strangled noise, before closing their arms around the dwarf that held them both, “Mom …”

“Sh… everything is going to be alright.” Rubbing their backs comfortingly the lady-dwarf kissed both of their foreheads before separating from them after long moments. In a gentle voice she advised, “Now go inside, as the hobbit has ordered. I will make this right, don’t worry.”

“Mother, Bilbo doesn’t order us …” But before Kíli could finish the sentence, Fíli nodded to their mother and dragged his brother into the smial. 

 

Bilbo was standing in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to whistle. He hated these emotional encounters. There had been far too many of them, ever since his dwarrows had arrived. Hopefully soon all of the involved people would be here, so that the unpleasant appearances of strange people at his doorstep would come to an end. He heard the reluctant steps of Fíli and Kíli and braced himself on the counter.

Fíli’s voice was timid when the dwarf whispered, “Bilbo, that was …”

But before the dwarf could finish, the hobbit turned around and said, “Your mother. I know Fíli, Kíli, and I am really sorry. So sorry, please believe me.” 

Stepping up to the boys who looked at him so very uncertainly, he gently caressed their cheeks before they leaned in and touched his forehead to theirs. “I would have wished to start with her on good terms, bearing in mind that she is going to be my sister-in-law. But I won’t have anybody under my roof who constantly shouts at me and insults me at every turn. You have to understand that.”

Hugging Bilbo for a moment Kíli explained, “We know that, Bilbo. Mother can be … well, quite overwhelming. But maybe we could … I don’t know, invite her to dinner or something like that? We could even sit in the back-garden so that she wouldn’t bother you.”

Before Bilbo could find an answer to that question, his kettle whistled and the doorbell rang again. While Fíli and Kíli offered to care for tea, both terribly unsure of how to proceed with their mother, the hobbit went to the door, silently thanking the heavens that – whoever was standing on the other side – didn’t feel the need to pull the bell from its hinges.

 

He was a little surprised to see the same dwarf as before standing there. With a deep bow and a soft, warm voice the dwarf introduced herself, “I am Dis, sister of Thorin, daughter of Thráin, the current King of the Blue Mountains. At your service. Are you Master Baggins?”

Biting his lips for a moment to supress a smile, Bilbo mirrored the low bow, replying, “Indeed, Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, at your service, Lady Dis.” Looking at the tall figure he took a step back and made an inviting gesture. “Please, come in, your highness. We were about to have tea, would you give us the honour of your company?”

With an elegant nod, Dis admitted, “I would very much like that. Thank you.”

Gesturing towards the wardrobe Bilbo offered, “You can leave your cape and your boots here. Tea will be ready in a minute.”

 

Dis was more than impressed with the behaviour of the little hobbit. Not only had he stood his ground against her, something not ever her brother was able to do all the time, he was obviously willing to forget about the embarrassing encounter where she had completely lost her composure being overwhelmed by her worst fears. All she had to do was show herself … not even polite, but remotely as a decent guest to get on the hobbits good side.

Her brother’s letter had left a strange taste in her mouth. He had only found words of praise after announcing his engagement to Bilbo Baggins. Thorin didn’t take anything without critique. He was used to being … well, not mistrustful but at least cautious. Yet he had painted the picture of Bilbo Baggins in such bright colours that after the departure of the scribe and his brothers, she had only needed another week to persuade her father to allow her to travel to the Shire as well.

She had two very skilled warriors at her side, but had left them behind at the local inn, in favour of getting the chance of a first impression of her future brother in law. And truth to be told she started to understand why Thorin was so enthralled by Bilbo. A dwarf would have shouted at her – at least if he had found the courage to do so – and thrown her out like it was his right. But he would not have opened his door for her again, nor invited her into his home with an honest smile.

Hobbits obviously believed in second chances. And even if not all of them did, at least not unconditionally, this one did. And that boded well for Thorin’s future.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	40. Customs and Culture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dís arrives and suddenly Bilbo has a lot to worry about.  
> But luckily there are a lot of dwarrows who have his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Sunday (3rd update this week, did you notice?) and it's warm and I have a whole week of freedom ahead of me, where I have to do nothing but going to work and taking care that my husband and I are not starving to death. Because my beloved boy is - drum-role please - on vacation with his grandparents!!!
> 
> That means I have a lot of free time at my hand in the evenings to ... I don't know ... be creative. I could paint a picture, or plant a tree, or tidy up our house. *g*
> 
> So I hope all of you have a fabulous weekend and a great week ahead of you.

As Bilbo entered the kitchen, he found the two brothers in a desperate embrace. Calmly and gently he said, “Boys, we will have a guest for tea. I think you should go inside and give her a proper greeting. I will take care of everything.”

They had touched neither the kettle nor any food in preparation of the afternoon meal; instead, they had been comforting each other due to this messed up situation between their mother and their host.

When they separated, both watched Bilbo with a timid look of hope on their faces. Only when their hobbit nodded, they let go of each other in favour of hugging him instead. Their words were mere whispers, not much louder than they had been in the garden when they had found out that his parents had died due to their grandfather’s lack of help; nor where they any less emotional. “Thank you, Bilbo.” “Thank you so very much.”

With a reassuring caress, Bilbo nudged them towards the living room and started to busy himself with preparing tea and biscuits as promised. He hummed to himself in a low tone, happy for Fíli and Kíli that their mother had come around and behaved like a decent person. Not that he had not been impressed with her Display of devotion and care for her family. Bilbo thought that he would very much have acted the same, were their situations reversed. But while he had gotten to know his dwarrows as stubborn and mulish, the Lady Dís had shown tremendous self-restraint and acted like a true princes, reining in her emotions in favour of proving herself a polite guest.

When the hobbit stepped into the living-room he found mother and sons deep in conversation. Dís sat in the armchair that was usually occupied by Thorin and Fíli and Kíli sat at her feet, talking animatedly about their work and the Chubb-Baggins family in all its glorious detail. All three eyes shone with happiness and delight, Fíli and Kíli’s because they could share their marvellous experiences with their mother, and Dís’s because her sons seemed genuinely happy.

 

“How about we relocate this little party to the back garden?” Bilbo smiled and held up his tray that contained teacups and a steaming pot, an assortment of pastries and biscuits along with a bowl of whipped cream that smelled very inviting.

When Dís rose and went to put on her shoes, Kíli stopped her and started to drag her through the smial. “You don’t need shoes, Mum. Bilbo’s lawn is terribly soft and smells really good.”

Throwing Fíli a confused look, the hobbit asked, “My lawn smells good?”

Reaching for more cups in the sideboard when the door opened and Dori and Nori entered, Fíli answered, “Yes, it does. We have never lived anywhere where there was trimmed grass. It’s really nice to stretch out on it and smell it right after it has been cut.”

Turning towards Dori and Nori who had just entered, Bilbo asked in their general direction, “The Lady Dís has arrived. Would you like to join us for tea?” And while Dori and Nori had their hands full of merchandise, they promised to put it away safely before joining them in the garden. Maybe they should bring along the seed-cake Dori had baked yesterday. Just to make sure everybody had enough to eat.

Smiling at his dwarrows, Bilbo followed Fíli to the back garden, and half an hour later even Dwalin, Balin and Ori had joined them. While all were cautious not to draw the princess’s attention, something Bilbo could completely understand after having heard Dís dressing down the Councillor for not informing her sufficiently about the whole situation. Yet Balin took the rant with a polite smile, and in the end just bowed his head in a silent apology. Obviously he was used to such scolding and didn’t think too much of it.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Everybody fell silent when suddenly Thorin appeared at the back door of the smial. The siblings looked at each other wordlessly and after a moment Dís rose from the bench and hugged her brother fiercely. In the next moment she gently cradled his face and touched their foreheads, saying in a low voice, “Thank you. For everything.”

Kissing his sister’s forehead gently, Thorin pulled her back into a tight embrace. “It’s alright, sister. Everything is alright. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

Bilbo watched this scene with a little … alright a lot … of worry, because it brought up memories from the beginning of his dwarrows’ stay in the Shire. When he felt Fíli’s warm hand on his shoulder, he turned around and asked in an apprehensive whisper, “You all were terribly scared of me at the beginning, weren’t you? Of what I would do to you.”

Looking at his brother and uncle, Fíli confirmed the hobbit’s impression. With a gentle voice he explained, “You have seen the letter. All we knew was that we were to serve you. You could have been mean, demanding and condescending and we still would have had to show ourselves humble and obedient. So yes, we were pretty frightened, because we knew our failure would mean the downfall of our people.”

When Bilbo looked at his hands, trying to remember his actions during the first month of the Durins’ stay in Bag End until he felt Kíli’s hand on his arm. The dwarf leaned into him and soothed him, “But when we arrived, you offered us blankets and made us sit by the warm fire and you gave us something to eat and prepared a hot bath, clean, warm clothes and a brilliant supper. You could not have been more welcoming, Bilbo, so don’t worry. You were the best taskmaster we could have wished for and we are all glad that it was you who was meant to judge us. Especially Uncle Thorin.”

Nodding towards the prince, Bilbo followed the boys’ gazes and smiled. Dís – though not visibly tense since she had entered the smial the second time – seemed indefinitely more relaxed and at ease now. The siblings talked animatedly and Bilbo had to call them to the table, so that they would not spend their afternoon on the doorstep of his smial.

When Dís took her place once again, Thorin – like always – shooed Kíli away and took his place at Bilbo’s side. After a brief touch of their foreheads, he leaned towards his sister again and continued their conversation about their father, the state of the kingdom and her travel to the Shire. Bilbo took it upon himself to serve Thorin, and obediently the dwarf sipped his tea and ate a small piece of pastry and a bigger piece of seedcake Bilbo placed on his plate.

When Thorin rose after tea he swayed a little, but still dragged his sister into the smial and into Bilbo’s kitchen, talking animatedly about his work and the life here at Bag End. Fíli and Kíli joined them and soon all four Durins were preparing dinner. Bilbo realized that they didn’t even think about it, just started the preparations of a meal like every family would. The boys had cleaned the table and started washing up. Thorin rummaged through the pantry to find something edible and Dís simply was included.

For several long moments Bilbo watched his new family and the way Dís seemed to fit in seamlessly. He shivered slightly and wrapped his arms around himself when thinking about the Blue Mountains. There his Durins would not be woodworkers or smiths. They would be princes with the corresponding responsibilities and a lot of work.

He realized that Balin and Dwalin had been looking at him, while standing at the table in the dining room, going over the wagons and horses they would need in a month.

Balin was the first one to speak, though both dwarrows looked down at Bilbo’s shivering frame with worry. “What are you concerned about, Master Baggins?”

Unwilling to burden them with his concerns, Bilbo just shook his head and forced a smile on his face, before passing them by. But obviously the sons of Fundin wouldn’t let this slide so easily because Dwalin stepped into his path and put his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders, nearly swaying the hobbit with their weight.

“What’s wrong, Bilbo? We may not be family but we care about you. Talk to us, maybe we can help,” Dwalin rumbled deeply.

Closing his eyes, the hobbit allowed the tall dwarf to guide him to the dinner-table and sat down, toying with the notes and maps that lay there. He hoped that the dwarrows would pick up their work again, forget about him, but Balin and Dwalin had a lot of patience. Finally Bilbo admitted in a whisper, “The family is together again. I wonder how I will fit in once we arrive at the Blue Mountains. They won’t need a cook and they are the hosts there.”

The two brothers looked at each other. Balin took a seat next to Bilbo and looked at his aged hands folded on the table. After a little while the dwarf started to speak. “Do you know that Fíli and Kíli are great mischief-makers at home?”

With a smile Bilbo admitted, “I can imagine as much.”

It was Dwalin who picked up the story at that point. “Yes, they go around, playing pranks on people. They are even worse than Thorin and I were in our youth.”

Balin continued, “But with you they have become responsible and trustworthy. Your cousin obviously thinks a great deal of them, if he allows them to look after his babies. You have to understand, Bilbo, the Durin line is bound to rule, and we all have had a hard time ever since Smaug came and stole Erebor from us.”

“They have their uncle, their mother and their grandfather are solely concentrated on protecting them. But like with Thorin, you are doing so much more than that. You care for them, you make sure they make themselves useful and don’t lack anything. And you have done something for the male members of the line of Durin, that none of us have been able to achieve, no matter how much we love them: you make them feel useful and therefore happy. And that’s a first ever since we lost our home.”

Dwalin reached for Bilbo’s hand and squeezed it a little too roughly, but the hobbit smiled at him nevertheless. “I know that the Lady Dís can be quite intimidating. But don’t worry about her. You have the love of her children, you will gain her love in time.”

The hobbit wondered for a moment why there was such a look of longing in Dwalin’s eyes, but Balin soon distracted him. Obviously not only Fíli and Kíli but all dwarven brothers talked on top of each other, when they wanted to convey a message. Bilbo smiled at the old dwarf when Balin said, “Just be yourself, Master Baggins. There is nothing that would win you the heart of our people faster than that. You are an extraordinary hobbit, and every last inhabitant of the Blue Mountains will see that, once they get to know you.”

Lowering his head because his cheeks were set aflame by the unexpected praise, Bilbo mumbled, “That’s what Thorin says too.” He looked up when he heard both dwarrows snicker.

Dwalin explained, “Well, our beloved prince does have his moments of clarity. Now help us, Bilbo, we have to make sure that there are enough vehicles for all the food you and my dear brother have acquired for us.”

Gently guiding the hobbit to his study, picking up the latest lists composed in Ori’s neat handwriting, they joined the young scribe and were lost in discussion about the storage and carriage of all the goods they would need to ship off to the Blue Mountains.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

During supper – a very rich and delicious supper by the way, cucumber-salad included – Dwalin reminded Thorin that he would need to take care of the ponies they had been able to acquire. More beasts would come from the Blue Mountains with the chef and his cousins, but still the price for the ponies from the Shire was exceptionally low, because the sons of Fundin had promised that Thorin would shoe all the breeders’ animals for free.

The plan was for this to happen over the next two days, because the farmers would need to hire said ponies during harvest. Thorin didn’t mind doing it, he had prepared the horseshoes in advance and they would bring the beasts to his forge two at a time, so that he could work swiftly and efficiently.

That evening Bilbo excused himself right after dinner. He was still a little tired from his travels and he wanted to give the Durin family a chance to catch up. So he prepared a warm tea with a little rum in it to make everybody comfortable, and made sure that there were enough cookies and biscuits for everyone. He winked at Fíli and Kíli and gave Thorin a soft kiss, before bowing slightly to the princess and then retreating to a steaming bubble-bath and right to bed afterwards. The big book he had taken with him to deepen his knowledge of agriculture, lay open on his bed, the candle still lit when Thorin entered later that night.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The next day was quite easy-going for Bilbo. Dís proved herself to be a stern but efficient quartermaster for their company and after introducing herself to the merchants, who traded with them, she had everybody swept away by her charms and the preparations sped up considerably.

Bilbo realized that this was quite the customary way of dealing with things, when Balin supported her silently with lists and information she was lacking in a meeting with a vendor and they seemed to work like clockwork together. Smiling and leaving them in good conscience, Bilbo acquired some lunch and met Thorin at the forge.

He was worried a little about his dwarf when he found Thorin sweating profoundly in his back-yard. Two beasts stood there and only moved to the side when Bilbo bribed them with fresh apples. And though obviously glad to see his fiancé, Thorin was unusually monosyllabic and lacked appetite. The hobbit forced several cups of tea into his fiancé but didn’t urge him to eat. Obviously Thorin suffered from the heat, and Bilbo knew from personal experience that he wouldn’t feel the need to eat a lot when he was hot.

Dinner and supper would take care of his lover’s need for sustenance, so Bilbo left after only half an hour with a brief kiss, allowing Thorin to return to his work. Two more ponies had already been brought to the back-yard during their lunchtime and after a brief chat with their owner, Bilbo returned to Bag End.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The afternoon passed uneventfully, and Bilbo couldn’t help but smile at the young scribe who informed him in a low voice that he had everything prepared for the caravan, at least up to their current knowledge and – off course only if it would be alright with Master Baggins – he would very much like to borrow one of his books. Guiding the young dwarf through his collection, Bilbo asked what Ori would fancy to read, and was quite surprised when the scribe timidly reached for a large volume and handed it to Bilbo.

Knowing all of his books by the cover, Bilbo only raised one eyebrow and asked, “Is it common for dwarrows to learn about the elven race?”

Immediately Ori pulled back and apologized, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy. A book about the plants of the Shire would absolutely do.” He downright flinched and gave a startled sound, something that brought Nori to the door of the office, when Bilbo put the book in the young dwarf’s hands and stated, “Master Ori, I was just wondering. Whatever you want to read, it’s yours for the taking. I have seen you handling your books, so I am sure mine will be safe with you. Come on, I will show you how to work this volume.”

“Just Ori please, Master Baggins,” was the timid but delighted answer from the young dwarf. And he didn’t even to look at his brother, when they left the office in favour of the back garden. Bilbo just gave a friendly nod when passing Nori by, but his concentration was clearly set on putting Ori’s mind at ease. He had wondered why the scribe would be interested in a book about elven customs and culture, but hadn’t planned on keeping it from him.

 

Once in the garden, Bilbo opened the book. The left side of every page showed the most beautiful and intricate handwriting. Letters blossomed all over the page, some on top of each other. Bedazzling pictures obviously explained the writing and Ori seemed downright crestfallen when he realized that the book was written in the elven tongue. But soon Bilbo guided his attention to the right page that always contained the translation of the Sindarin words into the common tongue. Ori’s eyes shone with delight when he realized that he indeed could decipher their meaning.

“Who did this translation? The handwriting looks the same.” Ori gently touched the pages of the book, not looking up at Bilbo who eyed him in astonishment. Never in all his years had he ever met somebody who could tell something like that, simply by looking at the pages of one of his books. Sindarin and Westron were written in different letters and punctuation. Yet the scribe pointed out the similarities between the two handwritings easily when asked.

A little proud, Bilbo admitted, “I did.” When the dwarf eyed him curiously, the hobbit explained, “Some twenty years ago, during my third visit of Rivendell, the Lord Elrond allowed me to enter his library. I was fascinated with books even as a teen, but the Library of the Last Homely House surpassed even my wildest dreams. I spent nearly that whole summer copying one of the books and had Elrond and his children teach me how to read it. After returning to the Shire I spent my time translating it.

“When I showed it to the Lord the next time we visited, he offered me another book for translation and another during our next stay and another after that. I gathered several volumes, the ones only written in Sindarin included, and I am quite proud of my library in that regard. Sadly it didn’t really help me when my first live-in-houseguests proved to be dwarrows, as you lot are quite sparse with information about your customs and culture.”

Looking up at Bilbo, smiling a little more openly than before, Ori offered eagerly, “I could teach you, Master Baggins.”

With a delighted smile the hobbit touched Ori’s arm and affirmed, “I would like that, Master Ori … I mean Ori. I would like that very much.”

Looking up at Nori, who had not left his place on the doorstep during this whole conversation, Bilbo rose from his seat and left Ori to his studies. He hesitated briefly when the peak-haired dwarf stepped to the side and asked in a low voice, “Why …”

Why was Bilbo treating Ori like that when nearly every dwarf in the Blue Mountains looked down at him because of his lack of talent in combat? Why did the hobbit offer his library so freely, when those books obviously meant a lot to him? And why did he take his time to comfort a silly little dwarf who should mean absolutely nothing for a hobbit who was engaged to a member of the line of Durin, the royals of their kingdom!? Looking at Bilbo in wonder, unable to finish his sentence, Nori simply stood at the door and gaped at his host.

Understanding where this was going, because that was the only direction every dwarf seemed to go when Bilbo offered information, kindness or support, the hobbit answered the unfinished question. “Because I can, Master Nori. Once you get to know me better, you will realize that this is a sufficient reason for me. Simply, because I can.”

With these words he stepped past him and headed for the kitchen to meet with Dori and discuss plans for dinner and supper. The silver-haired dwarf had proven to be a lover of good food, rivaling the likes of a hobbit, and for tonight he had promised to show Bilbo a dwarvish dish. Bilbo needed to make sure that he had everything that was needed, before they would start their preparations.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Leaving Ori to his own devices and hijacking Dwalin from his work, Dori, Nori and Bilbo went to the marketplace to acquire all the needed vegetables and meats that would be necessary for the evening meals. Once they returned to Bag End, all of the dwarrows sipped a quick afternoon tea, before gathering in the kitchen. Bilbo was greatly pleased by the animated stories Dori told about their lives in Erebor and the misfortunes that had happened to his brothers, in spite of his attempts to teach them the most basic table-manners and etiquette.

All were laughing and having a good time when slicing the vegetables, seasoning the meat and preparing everything for an early supper and late dinner. Dori proved to be an excellent cook, but he still told Bilbo that there was no better chef among the dwarrows than Bombur. Excited to hear about the cook, Bilbo egged his dwarrows on and soon found out that the dwarf in question was massive in every aspect.

 

His body – he was told – was huge, his reddish hair braided into giant braids that held it out of his face. His experience in the kitchen and in storage, preparation and providing excellent meals for the dwarrows were unparalleled. They even spoke about the lengths he had gone to find suitable substitutes for vegetables and fruits once their stocks had come to an end. By the sound of it Bombur had single-handedly saved the dwarrows from starvation.

Bilbo grew silent during these stories because while they were funny and entertaining, they showed the hobbit how very dire the situation of the Blue Mountains was. Yet he smiled at all of them once they had gathered around the table. Nearly everybody complimented Dori on the excellent meal and Bilbo was delighted to have learned the new recipe.

He would make sure to write it down, once supper had been served. Even Ori seemed to relax considerably in the carefree atmosphere and dared to talk to Bilbo in a low voice about all the fascinating details he had found on the elves of Middle-earth.

Bilbo realized that his experiences with that noble race differed vastly from those of the dwarrows. The Lord of Rivendell was kind and caring, not at all like the Woodland king who had abandoned the dwarrows of Erebor in their hour of need. And though Bilbo could understand that a king wouldn't wish for his subjects to fight a hopeless war against a dragon, he still didn't like the thought of them retreating, when the dwarrows were in need.

 

When they all sat together in the evening, Thorin was silent throughout the entire meal. Although he enjoyed the smells of the familiar dish, he couldn't bring himself to eat a lot of it. Although he spooned up dutifully everything Bilbo served him, he didn't go for second or third helpings as usual. His day had been exceptionally strenuous. Spending all of it in his backyard, shoeing horses, he had tried to get the majority of the beasts done today, so that he would be able to return to his usual orders as soon as possible.

Now that the harvesting season had begun, many hobbits had found their rakes, shovels or plowshares cracked and in need of mending. Trying his very best, he had worked past his usual time today and now felt dizzy and tired. Only Bilbo’s gentle hands held him upright, and once dinner was over he opted for a soothing bath. Nearly drowsing off in the tub, he went to bed immediately afterwards, without even saying his good-nights. He was too tired and his head ached too badly for him to return to the back-garden where the dwarrows and the hobbit had gathered.

 

Dís was delighted when her sons went for a bath right after Thorin. Usually she had to force them into one, but in the Shire her boys went for it freely. What surprised her even more, was their returning to the gardens, with wet hair and unusually short trousers and loose shirts, placing a comb in front of Bilbo. Without interrupting his speech about his favourite pumpkin-pie recipe, the hobbit shifted to the side where Fíli had sat down in the grass beside him.

Looking back and forth between Dori and Dwalin who he was talking to, and Fíli’s head, Bilbo untangled the young dwarf’s hair gently, before braiding it with swift fingers. It took him several minutes to realize that the “new” dwarrows in his home stared openly at him. Slowing down and coming to a full stop, Bilbo asked nervously, “Should we … should we go inside? Is it rude to braid his hair in front of all of you?” Helplessly looking down at Fíli and then to Kíli who sat opposite of his brother in the soft grass.

But Fíli just turned his head slowly, looking at the Ri-brothers and then at his mother, before turning towards Bilbo and stating in a calm voice, “No, please continue, Bilbo.”

Understanding that an important message had somehow been conveyed, a message he couldn’t understand, Bilbo returned to his duties and swiftly braided the dwarf’s hair. He concentrated solely on the dark tresses of Kíli once the boys had switched, and didn’t look at Fíli who took the seat right beside his mother.

 

Dís looked at her son, gently touching his new braids that were woven in the precise pattern of the Durin line. Not a hair was out of place and the lady-dwarf looked first at the hobbit and then at her eldest son. The eyes she met were full of determination and sincerity. Understanding the unspoken message, as well as the fact that Bilbo obviously had done this braiding many, many times before to be so skilled with the technique, she simply smiled and nodded.

Her sons had lived with this hobbit for the whole summer, getting to know him better than anybody. They had formed an opinion and she would acknowledge their decision. Because no matter what the arranged marriage with her brother entailed, if her sons accepted Bilbo Baggins as family, so would she.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is something that bothers me and I would like to hear your opinion about it. I had this idea, a simple idea stemmed from all the "arranged marriage" stories in the universe of the hobbit. And I liked it and started to write it down. It was neat and simple and not too long. Funny thing is, that idea has turned out to have more than 100.000 words already and is getting really huge.  
> I often read on mobile devices and the longer the loading time for a story is, the more I'm frustrated with my mobile or my tablet. So here comes the question:
> 
> Once our party arrives at the Blue Mountains, should I turn this story into a series with two parts?
> 
> Please share your opinion, because I'm not sure what would be more comfortable for you my cherished readers.


	41. Dwarrows DO get sick!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working out in the blazing sun for a whole day,without covering one's head, isn't healthy. Not even for a dwarf.

When Bilbo excused himself right after finishing Kíli’s braids, all the dwarrows bade him goodnight in sincere and warm tones. Suddenly a tension he had not even noticed before had vanished, after he had braided his … no, Dís’s boys’ hair. A part of him felt a pang of regret that the lady-dwarf was now with them, because that surely meant that she would take care of her sons from now on.

But then he scolded himself for that unkind thought. She was Fíli and Kíli’s mother and had surely missed them dearly over the summer months. And maybe they loved him enough that they would spend at least a little time with him, once they all returned to the Blue Mountains. Clinging to that hope, Bilbo went through his nightly routine and sneaked into his bedroom silently, not to wake his overly tired fiancé.

But Thorin seemed dead to the world, and even when Bilbo snuggled into him from behind, he didn’t shift in the slightest. Inhaling his future husband’s scent, Bilbo rose, feeling disquieted. He knew Thorin’s scent, but at that very moment the dwarf smelled sick, like a sour undertone to his natural fragrance. The hobbit was unable to explain it any better, not even to himself, but something was wrong with Thorin, and instantly Bilbo started to worry about him. Gently hugging him from behind, Bilbo decided that he would keep his eyes on Thorin once they rose.

Pushing away his blanket, because it was already warm and Thorin was a furnace, Bilbo closed his eyes and soon drifted off to sleep. Little did he know that his careful plans to examine his fiancé in the morning were a little too optimistic.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin felt horrible when he opened his eyes. He wished for nothing more than go back to sleep, but his stomach churned very unpleasantly and he felt nauseous. Bile was already rising in his throat so he untangling himself hastily from Bilbo’s soft arms, and nearly fell off the bed before desperately stumbling towards the door. He heard Bilbo calling for him, asking if he was alright, but he was able to neither respond nor reach the bathroom in time.

Turning towards the closest door, the entrance door as it turned out, he scratched over the wood in his attempt to get it open as fast as possible. As soon as he could see the moonlit garden, he stumbled over the step and fell on his hands and knees, heaving heavily. While his stomach parted from its content, the dwarf barely registered the small hands that picked up his long hair and held it away from his face.

Shivering violently, retching again and again, he felt weak as a kitten once the cramps eased a little. Giving in to the gentle arms that stirred him away from the flowerbed he had just vomited into, he felt Bilbo’s tender embrace and couldn’t help but leaning into it. He should rise, he knew that. He should apologize for killing Bilbo’s flowers, but in that very moment, he even felt too weak to open his mouth.

 

The hobbit, on the other hand, had no such problems. Brushing his lips soothingly over his fiancé’s forehead, Bilbo noticed that his dwarf was burning up. Pulling Thorin closer, further away from the flowers, so that the pungent smell wouldn’t disturb him, he met the eyes of Fíli and Kíli who had been woken by the turmoil. Rapidly he ordered, “Kíli, go to the back-garden and gather about a dozen leaves of mint, crush them and dose them with a good amount of oil.

“Fíli, Thorin is burning up. Get the quilt from my bedside and the vodka from the liquor cabinet.” Gently coaxing his fiancé to rise, Bilbo soon realized that he would not be strong enough to guide the dwarf into his cellar. Luckily Nori seemed to be a very light sleeper too. Not thinking about politeness when he saw the auburn-haired dwarf, Bilbo instructed, “Wake up Dwalin. I need him.”

Without another word, the dwarf complied with the hobbit’s wishes and after a minute a sleepy-eyed Dwalin stood in the doorframe. Only clad in his smallclothes, the warrior still was an imposing figure, with all the tattoos and muscles on display. Upon Bilbo’s impatient gesture, the dwarf picked up Thorin as if he were a toddler and looked at Bilbo expectantly.

“We will get him in the lower pantry. There is ice and we need to lower his temperature. Come with me.” Guiding them towards a small door near the kitchen and down a narrow staircase, soon Dwalin and Bilbo entered a spacious pantry where Fíli was already lighting up some candles. With worry the young dwarf explained, “There is nearly no ice left. Will it work with just cold water and alcohol?”

Nodding affirmatively, Bilbo urged Dwalin to place Thorin on the quilt that had been spread on the table in the middle of the pantry. Nori and Dis entered next, only to be shoved away by Kíli a moment later, as he brought not only the mint-oil-concoction but also a handful of rags.

Grateful for the young dwarf’s quick mind, Bilbo picked a few and doused them in the ice-cold water that Fíli had heavily laced with the alcohol. On an unspoken command Bilbo and Fíli started to brush down Thorin’s burning body with the mixture and after a moment Kíli took his cue and copied their movements.

As soon as the cold rags brushed over his body, Thorin opened his eyes and became uneasy. Reaching for a bowl on the shelf behind him, emptying its contents carelessly on the floor, Bilbo stepped to his fiancés head, gently brushing the cold rag over his sweaty forehead and cheeks. Within moments Bilbo’s worries came true, when Thorin heaved again. Six pairs of hands helped to turn the dwarf around and Bilbo had barely time to pull away Thorin’s tresses when he vomited again.

Looking up into the worried eyes of Dis, Bilbo explained, “He has sunstroke. I guess no matter how thick your hair is, working out in the open all day without a hat affects you as much as it would a hobbit.”

 

Looking at the hobbit, Dis gestured for Dwalin – who seemed clearly uneasy being so close to her in only his sleeping-clothes – to take her position as support for Thorin’s back. She ordered Nori to fetch her companions from the inn. Glóin was an excellent warrior and his brother Óin a skilled healer of their people. If her brother was really sick, she wanted the dwarf skilled in medicine to look him over.

 

Gesturing to Fíli, Kíli and Dwalin to ease Thorin back, Bilbo whispered to his fiancé that he would dash out for a moment and clean the soiled bowl. Thorin needed something to calm his stomach and Bilbo could think of nothing better than mint tea to accomplish that. After rinsing out the bowl, the hobbit hurried to his back-garden where he started to gather more leaves to brew them over in a small pot. Surely that would help his dwarf.

 

As soon as Nori had left, Dis returned to Thorin’s head, gently brushing away the dark strands that stuck to his sweaty forehead. But her touch didn’t seem to calm her brother as much as the halfling’s had. She had to lean down to hear Thorin’s whispered question, “Where is Bilbo?”

Rubbing over his chest soothingly, she told him in their mother-tongue: _> He just dashed out after you vomited. Don’t worry.<_

She couldn’t understand the agitation that showed clearly on her brother’s face, when he whispered in a harsh tone, _> Call him back, please.<_ He tried to get up all by himself, but Dwalin stepped up to him and pushed him back on the quilt while Fíli and Kíli worked on his legs and arms with the cold rags to lower his temperature. _ >I will apologize. Tell him that I didn’t mean to retch. I will clean it up later, I promise. Please, just let me go. I can’t have him leaving me. Please …!<_

Able to understand the words, but unable to comprehend the meaning of her brother’s fevered speech; Dis chose to simply comply with his wishes. She met the hobbit halfway up the stairs with a steaming pot and a cup in his hand. After sharing a worried glance, Dis retreated to give Bilbo a chance to enter his pantry again.

Once more Thorin was begging feverishly: _> Please. Let me go. I have to tell him that I’m sorry. Please … I … please … I can’t have him leave!<_

When Bilbo heard Thorin’s agitation, he was beside his fiancé in a heartbeat. Gently caressing his wet cheeks, the hobbit turned Thorin’s head, so that the dwarf was forced to look at him. Recognizing the desperate speech pattern, Bilbo went for the reply that usually soothed his dwarf the best. Touching their foreheads he whispered, “I will never, ever leave you, Thorin. Don’t worry, lover. Everything is going to be alright.”

Only when the dwarf calmed a little did Bilbo draw back and told him, “We will turn you around now to cool your back, and then we will return to our bed. Alright?” Thorin’s desperate grip on his hand told Bilbo that his fiancé really didn’t like this plan, so he tried to soothe him in a low voice, “How about everybody leaves and only Dwalin helps me?”

Hesitantly Thorin turned around and looked at his best friend with glassy eyes, before nodding his approval. Instantly Bilbo ordered the remaining Durins, “Get out, please.”

While Dis clearly didn’t feel very comfortable leaving her brother behind, her sons gently pulled her out of the cellar, leaving only Dwalin and Bilbo behind. Grateful for the boys’ trust, Bilbo nodded towards the warrior and together they turned their patient around and rubbed him down with swift movements before covering his body with the mint-oil mixture and wrapping him in the quilt.

Gently coaxing Thorin into a sitting position, Bilbo held a cup of peppermint tea to his lips and encouraged his fiancé to take a few sips. The tea had cooled considerably in the cold pantry and wouldn’t upset Thorin’s stomach any further. After a deep breath, the prince tried to slide off the table. When he stumbled Dwalin picked him up again.

Thorin’s feeble protests remained ignored when the hobbit gathered their paraphernalia and followed them. Fíli and Kíli instantly took the pot and the basin with the ice-water out of his hands, so that Bilbo could follow Dwalin and Thorin to the master bedroom.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

He was just passing the front door when it was opened by a partially clothed Nori with two new dwarrows in tow. Too tired and far too worried about Thorin to care for new guests, Bilbo gestured towards the back of his smial and explained, “There is a small dressing-room. Fourth door on the left side, two chaises are there, covered in fresh bedding, if that is to your liking. Let’s postpone the introductions until tomorrow.”

It was Dis who now explained, “These are Glóin and Óin. They accompanied me on my journey. I called for them because Óin is our healer.”

Throwing Dis a slightly annoyed and mostly tired look, Bilbo only nodded and gestured towards the master bedroom. He could very well take care of his fiancé, thank you very much. He had already cared for Kíli when the young dwarf had been sick. But he understood that, as Thorin’s sister, she wished the best care for her brother. Deciding that it would be easier to just give in and let the healer check Thorin, Bilbo ushered the old dwarf in and allowed him to look his sleeping fiancé over.

Instantly the ancient dwarf stepped up to the bed and took the prince’s pulse, checked his breathing and felt his temperature. With a frown he asked, “What did you do to him, Master Baggins?”

Irritated by the tone of the dwarf, Bilbo explained, “We wiped him down with ice-water laced with strong liquor so that it would evaporate easier and lower his temperature. Afterwards we rubbed mint-oil into his skin and I served him peppermint tea to settle his stomach. He has sunstroke. That’s hardly a terminal illness. If we take care that his body temperature doesn’t rise too high, he will be better in a few days.”

Looking between the agitated hobbit who hovered protectively at the dwarven prince’s side, and his princess, Oin explained, “I could not have done better myself. I would advise poultice wraps to pull the fever from his body, but for now Master Baggins had done the best he could.”

Als Bilbo die Zwerge kennen gelernt hat, war er überrascht als sie gekommen sind in seinem Haus. Da hat er sich gewundert wo cirka dreizehn Zwerge kamen. Dann kam ein Zauberer nanntens Gandalf, der das Zeichen gemacht hat.  
Dann gingen sie in den Wald wo sie einen Zauberer kennen gelernt haben. Er war der Braune. Der ihnen den Weg verriet. Er zeigte ihnen den Weg aus den Wald. Dann greiften Orcs an. Dann liefen die Zwerge und Gandalf und der Hobbit weg. Haben eine sichere Höhle gefunden wo dann Elfen angriffen.

Grateful that this stranger backed up his treatment, Bilbo smiled tentatively and repeated his invitation. “Please, Master dwarf, make yourself at home. I just … we would just like to sleep a few additional hours. Tomorrow …” Realizing that his lover would be expected at the forge in the morning, Bilbo turned and looked for Dwalin.

The warrior still hovered behind Dis, looking from his princess, to his prince, to the hobbit. When their eyes met, Bilbo asked, “You pledged yourself at my service on your first day. Does you offer still stand?”

The hobbit was truly relieved when the warrior confirmed, “From now until my very last breath will I remain at your service, Master Baggins.”

Shoulders sagging with relief, Bilbo decided, “Then you will go to the forge tomorrow. The ponies still need shoeing and my neighbours and the farmers will need their tools ready for harvesting. Thorin is in no condition to do that, or only under great strain, which I would prefer not to allow.”

When Dwalin bowed in acquiescence, Bilbo looked at the remaining Durins and Nori who stood in front of his bedroom door. Addressing Fíli and Kíli, Bilbo asked, “Please show the new dwarrows to the dressing-room. It’s not very big, but for sleeping it should be enough. The second-to-last guestroom goes to the chef and his family that will arrive shortly, and the last one is only suitable for big folk. So I am afraid you have to be content with the small room.”

With a tired smile, Fíli and Kíli bowed and answered, “As you wish, Master Boggins,” before turning around and guiding Oin and Gloin to the room in question. Tomorrow the other dwarrows would be settled in fully, but for now a clean bed would do for the night.

 

It was Dis who reached for the doorknob of the master bedroom, and for the first time since her arrival she smiled openly at Bilbo. With a small bow she said, “Thank you for taking such good care of my brother.”

Turning around, looking at the sleeping figure most tenderly, Bilbo shrugged, “He is my future husband. What else could I do?”

“Call for a healer? Call for his kin? No one expects you to mop up his vomit when he’s sick,” came a rather harsh explanation from the lady-dwarf. But the love for her brother that shone in her eyes made Bilbo forgive her crudeness easily.

So he relayed a simple truth, “I expect it of myself. He takes care of his people, and for this summer even of mine. How could I not care for him when HE is sick, when he cares so much about everybody else? Also, we are engaged. What kind of husband would I be if I abandoned him in time of need?”

Sobering slightly, Dis nodded and said, “Yes, you are engaged. Marrying Thorin makes you his future consort. The Prince Consort.” She had thought for a moment that Bilbo truly cared, but of course he had done it simply because of his engagement. Showing himself supportive would only strengthen his position with the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains.

With these dark thoughts running through her head, she was not prepared for the hobbit’s suffering sigh when he admitted, “Yes, I know. But it can’t be helped, Thorin will be king and there is nothing we can do about it. So I will just have to endure it.” Lowering his head slightly, he ended their conversation with a polite, “Sleep well, Lady Dis,” before closing the door.

Dumbstruck by this strange admission, the lady-dwarf stared at the door for a few moments. The hobbit had to “endure” his position as consort? Dwarrows would kill for this chance, for a seat in the council, a position by the king’s side. Yet for Bilbo Baggins her brother’s status seemed more like a burden than a treat. For the first time she realized that she knew virtually nothing about the culture of her future brother-in-law. Because what kind of person would easily dismiss power and influence in favour of a peaceful life without riches and authority?

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Yet there was still another matter to address, and when she heard soft voices from the kitchen, she knew where to find her sons. Confirming her suspicion, she saw the two princes side by side in front of the sink, cleaning the bowls, rags and pots they had used for treating their uncle. Kíli obviously had relocated the peppermint tea into a ceramic jug, so that it would not get infinitely stronger overnight, and was currently drying the dishes Fíli had washed.

Folding her arms in front of her chest, Dis asked in an inquisitive manner, “Why did you teach Bilbo Khuzdul? It’s a sacred language, only dwarrows are allowed to learn it!”

The boys looked at each other in bewilderment. Fíli placed the last dish beside the sink and turned around. Confused he said, “We didn’t. What makes you think so, mother?”

Gesturing accusingly towards the staircase that led to the cellar, Dis explained, “Because Thorin was barely lucid down there. Westron had eluded him completely. Yet Bilbo came in and knew exactly what to say to calm him down. How could he do that, if he didn’t know what my brother was saying? So don’t lie to me, because I know Thorin would never betray our people by revealing our hallowed language!”

Changing a swift look with his brother, Kíli dropped the towel and mirrored his mother’s gesture. In an angry voice he declared, “We might have been living here for several months but that is no reason for you to doubt our word!”

Placing a calming hand on his younger brother’s arm, Fíli reinforced his position. “We would never lie to you, mother, you should know us better than that!”

Throwing her hands up in resignation, Dis asked, “Then how come your hobbit knew exactly what to say?”

Smiling, Fíli offered, “Maybe because he watches,” immediately being supported by Kíli, “And listens!”

 

Stepping to their mother, the dwarrows reached for her hands and kissed them affectionately. With a resigned sigh, Dis caressed her sons and calmed down a little, only to be informed by her offspring, “Bilbo and Thorin shared a room for the last weeks.” – “Do you think uncle’s nightmares have mysteriously vanished only because we are in the Shire?”

Hauling their mother into a loving hug, the boys whispered, “He still dreams of Erebor.”

“And of Moria.”

“About every moment we suffered.”

“And every dwarf he has lost after the Battle of Azanulbizar.”

Looking at their mother with sad eyes, Fíli stated, “Bilbo doesn’t need to learn our language to understand that uncle Thorin suffers for every loss he has not been able to prevent.”

Gazing to his brother for a brief moment, Kíli whispered, “And he loves Uncle so very much. He would move heaven and earth to help him and set his mind at ease. But he doesn’t know it yet, just like he doesn’t know that Thorin feels exactly the same.”

Sceptically, Dis asked Kíli, “How can you be so sure of that?”

With a sly grin the brothers reminded her, “Because we CAN understand what Uncle is shouting in his sleep.” Sobering up pretty quickly, they added, “But they don’t know about each other’s feelings. They CAN’T know for now. They need all their strength to go through the current crisis.”

“Once we are settled in the Blue Mountains and everybody is well off, we will give them a push if they have not come clean by then.”

“But until then … we suggest you leave them to their ignorance and just enjoy the sight of them interacting with each other.”

“Because it’s truly adorable.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Shaking her head at her two mischievous boys, Dis ushered them to bed and sat hard at the kitchen table. Starring out into the night, she tried to think about what the revelations of the day … or rather, the night … meant for her and the kingdom. The sun was already dawning when Balin joined her in the kitchen and silently started to prepare tea. Offering a cup, the Councillor sat down opposite her and served her, all the while remaining silent.

“He loves him.”

“I know.”

Dis looked at Balin in wonder at the simple affirmation of her huge revelation. When she shook her head, uncomprehending, the white-haired dwarf said, “After all these years; after the loss of Erebor, the futile battle at the Mines of Moria, after our endless journey through Middle-earth, Thorin always kept the wellbeing of our people on the forefront of his mind. He never strayed from his path. Had never thought about himself. Not even after we arrived in the Blue Mountains and our king had got better and resumed his duties, did he allow himself to relax.”

He smiled, remembering his first impression of the hobbit. How Bilbo had beamed with joy at his guests, just because he had known how happy his dwarrows would be to see them. “But after coming here, after accidentally revealing the letter and their mission, your brother did not have to fight a desperate battle against a hobbit to get help for his people. Instead, the hobbit offered his hand in marriage. And do you know why?”

When Dis shook her head wordlessly, because Bilbo’s reason for his decision still eluded her, Balin disclosed, “Because he thought the price that his grandfather had placed on the Shire’s help neither just nor fair. He had seen a wrong and had taken it upon himself to right it. Thorin had kept information from him. He had lied to him by doing so. Yet Bilbo still offered his support, and ever since, he has done everything in his power to enlist the help our people need.

“In the process he has tried his very best to make up for the dire times your sons and your brother had at the beginning of their stay here. He has done everything to make them feel welcome and cared for. He cooks, cleans and helps your family in every way imaginable. Even if that only means a helpful ear or a tender hug. He can be fierce in his protection and kind in his support. He will be a sight to behold, once we arrive at the Blue Mountains.”

“If what you say is true, it seems like we can’t wish for a better addition to our family,” was Dís’s final conclusion from all the information. The dwarf only gave a confirming nod.

Continuing her current train of thought, the princess decided, “But we can’t have a Royal Consort who doesn’t speak the language of his people.”

Twirling the ends of his beard, Balin stated, “Yes, that would be most unfortunate disadvantage.”

Chewing at her bottom lip, Dis continued, “Yet we can’t teach it to him, because our language is sacred. No dwarf is allowed to teach it to someone who was not created by Mahal.”

With a mischievous smile on his lips, Balin suggested, “Maybe you should look over his library one day, Lady Dis. He has several books in different languages. Most of them translated by his own hand. He made quite an impression on Ori, offering him a volume in Sindarin and Westron.”

So they had a very talented hobbit at their hands. A scholar on top of that. Mirroring Balin’s playful smile, Dis nodded and answered, “Yes, a bit of light reading would keep my mind off things. I will make sure to do so tomorrow. Thank you very much, Councillor.”

With a polite nod Balin watched her leave, pleased that his worries about Bilbo not being able to understand the language of his future people would not be a problem any longer, once Dis set her mind to it. If the princess wished for something, there was little use in trying to convince her otherwise. And with a young scribe who already adored their hobbit, they would surely find a way to convey their ancient language without violating their traditions.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, first two comments: "Why is there a paragraph in German in the chapter."
> 
> I have to admit that it is horrible, terrible German. I can be honest with you. BUT, my eight-year-old son came around one afternoon, asking me what I was doing. When I explained he asked me he could do that too. Encouraging him - as it is my duty as a mom - I wrote down exactly what he said. And because he was so proud of himself, I kept the sentences.   
> I am aware that they barely make sense, but he's my child and I am bound to be proud of him. He got the Story of the Hobbit quite well in my opinion (Yea I know, mum remember?) and I promise you, I am working on his spelling ;).
> 
> Thanks for reading it though. Hope it was not too confusing.


	42. Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to care for someone you ... like. Especially when there are so many people around and you haven't even free reign in your own home.  
> On the other hand, it's easy to care for someone you like, when there are so many people around to lend you a helping hand.

Bilbo was tired. Really, honest to the god’s bone, dead tired. He had not slept properly for the last three days. His worries for Thorin constantly kept him in a state of mid-drift between sleeping and being awake. The fact that they had to brush down Thorin twice in the meantime, because his temperature had gone through the roof, didn’t help either.

He even knew … from his sparse trips through his home … that yet more dwarrows had arrived. There was a really fat but strangely haggard and drawn looking dwarf with carrot-red hair. There was someone in a funny hat (even though it was summer and blazing hot) who had sat carving something in front of the fireplace one evening. And lastly, Bilbo was not sure but he thought he had seen a dwarf with an axe in his head. But due to the fact that such a condition would most likely end with the death of the dwarf, Bilbo brushed it off as a hallucination due to his lack of sleep.

What troubled the hobbit most was the fact that Thorin’s body seemed to be unable to hold any sustenance. A very mild peppermint tea seemed to be the only thing his dwarf was able to stomach without throwing up. Even with a small amount of sugar in it, it was not enough to replenish Thorin’s strength. After mopping up a light stew because he had not been fast enough with the bowl, Bilbo nearly lost his footing on his way out of the bedroom.

Instantly Kíli was upon him, holding him up and taking the cleaning supplies out of his hands, while Fíli went into the master bedroom to complete the cleaning process with soapy water. The young dwarf was gently stirring Bilbo to the bathroom while Dís and Dwalin entered the bedroom right on Fíli’s heels. Before the hobbit could open his mouth to ask, Kíli explained: “Mother thought that Thorin would be more comfortable with fresh linen, so they will make real quick work of your bed. That leaves you the time to take a swift bath.”

Turning around, Bilbo tried to get away from Kíli. “I can’t. Thorin just threw up. I need to help them.”

However, the young dwarf held on to the smaller hobbit. In a serious voice he said, “No Bilbo. You really don’t. His sister, his nephew and his bodyguard who has been with him for the better part of the last 30 years, are absolutely able to handle him. YOU need to calm down, take a bath and relax for a few minutes. When was the last time you ate? When was the last time you slept properly? Getting yourself sick won’t help anybody!”

Reluctantly allowing Kíli to pull him along, mostly because he knew that the boy was right, Bilbo sank into a steaming bath only moments later. Leaning back, he soaked in the warm water for a few minutes, before his nerves go the better of him and he started to shake all over. His worries and his fear threatened to overwhelm him, and he honestly hoped that it was the warm water that streamed over his cheeks in burning rivers. Covering his face with his hands he did his best to hold back his sobs, because honestly, he didn’t know what to do anymore.

His lover was not eating, barely drinking. Sunstroke shouldn’t be that bad for so long, and the fact that the dwarf’s body seemed unable to stomach anything scared the hell out of Bilbo. He hoped that Thorin’s body only needed time, but it was hard to be optimistic after your fiancé had just thrown up on your floor for the umpteenth time in a row and looked like death warmed over.

Allowing himself a few more moments to gather his strength, Bilbo rose from his bath even before the water had cooled and was grateful for the fresh clothes Kíli had laid out for him. Brushing through his hair energetically, he decided to go to the kitchen and find his mother’s old cookbook. There had to be something digestible for Thorin and he wouldn’t stop before he found it.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Wanting to take just a peek to see if Thorin had been settled again, he found Dís at Thorin’s side, holding his hand and whispering with him, gently trailing her fingers through his dark tresses. Content that his lover was in good hands, Bilbo swayed just the tiniest bit with tiredness while approaching the kitchen.

Upon entering he found the carrot-haired dwarf in front of his oven. Sighing because he barely had the energy to stand, let alone defend his position in front of the stove, he found himself presented with a bowl full of hearty stew and a big chunk of fresh, warm bread.

Looking at the cook questioningly, he found the big dwarf looking at him rather embarrassed. In a kind voice that strangely fitted the wide figure, he explained: “Bombur, at your service. I apologize for utilizing your kitchen, Master Baggins, but Master Balin and Master Dwalin said that it would be alright for me to do so. And your pantry is so full and I just couldn’t resist the urge to start cooking. I’m really sorry if that displeases you.”

He seemed tired, and clearly worried, and somehow his skin seemed too big for his body, especially around the arms. But the dishes Bilbo found lining the counter smelled appetizing and looked mouth-watering. He couldn’t cook for his house guests, couldn’t provide for his dwarrows, so Bilbo was grateful that the chef of the Blue Mountains has taken it upon himself to feed all the current inhabitants of Bag End. And there were many of them, though the exact number eluded Bilbo somehow.

Calmingly, Bilbo placed a hand on the dwarf’s arm, before sitting down and sampling the stew. Nearly moaning with delight, because he hadn’t even realized how hungry he was, he sank his teeth into the freshly baked bread. After a few bites he said: “Please, feel free to take whatever you want. My pantry and kitchen are yours, if that’s what you make of them. Oh, by the way, where is everybody?”

Beaming with delight at the hobbit’s praise, Bombur sat down on the bench facing Bilbo. The wood squeaked a little in protest, but held. With a swift recollection Bombur explained: “Most of them are waiting for dinner outside. Your hole – though lovely – is too small to hold all of us, and it’s a beautiful day. The garden serves our needs. I just waited with the serving because Kíli told me that you were taking a bath after our prince … well, he thought you might be hungry.”

Spooning a yellowish pudding from a small bowl, which the chef had offered him after taking away the empty dish, Bilbo nodded. “I was. I just forgot about it. Thank you very much, Master Bombur. I don’t know what I would do without your help. All of your help actually. You dwarrows really are behaving more like family than like guests. Otherwise I would not be able to manage right now. So thank you for everything you have done and please pass on my gratitude to the others. I would really like to return to Thorin now.”

Rising from the bench, Bombur took away the dessert bowl, before spooning a small amount of an orange-red mush into a deep bowl. Offering it to Bilbo along with a spoon the dwarf stated: “Thank you, Master Bilbo for helping us. You don’t know what it means to me to be able to cook again, without being worried that it won’t be enough, no matter what I do. And it has never been enough for the last few years, regardless of what I tried. But here, in your hole, it feels like home again. Like I can do what I do best, without being worried about the outcome.”

A tired but honest smile spread on Bilbo’s face when he smelled mashed carrots. They had been thoroughly cooked and were barely seasoned, a dash of salt at best. But more than anything was Bilbo grateful that the eyes on the haggard face of the dwarf shone with honest happiness once again. So he simply hinted a bow and said: “You are very welcome, Master Bombur. We will make sure that this won’t happen again. I promise.”

Leaving, Bilbo smiled to himself. Usually he would feel insulted by Bombur’s choice of words. He really didn’t like somebody calling his smial a ‘hole’, like hobbits were rabbits that burrowed into the earth. But the dwarf had looked so honest and grateful that he hadn’t had the heart to call him on his mistake. Maybe later, when not every spoon full of food would land on his floor, Bilbo would think about explaining to Bombur how hobbits perceived their homes. But for now, it could not be less important.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo was gone. Thorin had thrown up and Bilbo was gone again. Shaking like a leaf, desperately trying to concentrate despite his headache and the weakness that seemed to weigh down his body, Thorin tried to claw his way out of bed – only to be picked up by Dwalin and placed in a chair in front of the cold fireplace, while Fíli cleaned the floor and afterwards helped his mother to change the sheets.

Thorin wanted to tell Dwalin to get his fiancé. Because he needed to apologize! Bilbo was gone longer than usual and Thorin was instantly worried that he had overdone it this time. He had tried to eat what his fiancé had served him, had fought to keep it down, but the meals just didn’t want to stay put and the dwarf really didn’t know what to do about it. Breathing through the cramps didn’t help, and holding his breath was no better, it just made him dizzier than he already was.

He wanted to tell Bilbo that he was sorry for being such a burden to him. True, the hobbit had made it his life’s mission to help them. But that help had surely not included cleaning after a sick dwarf. Though he tried to stay awake, he lost consciousness soon after Dwalin helped him back to bed. He was uneasy and felt his sister’s hand’s holding his, heard her soft voice talking to him, but while he tried to concentrate on her words, he was simply unable to capture their meaning. He would have been too weak to comment on them anyway. He was too weak for anything these days, and it was kind of embarrassing.

He realized that Dís was pulling away, but honestly he didn’t care. He couldn’t worry about his sister at the moment. He just hoped that Fíli and Kíli were alright and watching out for their mother.

He felt a vague smile tugging at the corners of his lips when a small hand came to rest on his forehead. Bilbo had returned, so now he could apologize. “’m sorry for throwing up …”

When he was being offered a small sip of lukewarm tea, Thorin summoned the energy to look at Bilbo. The hobbit sat on his bed with a bowl in his hand. Strangely the content smelled vaguely appetizing. But when his fiancé lifted a small spoon Thorin pulled away – or at least tried to the best of his abilities. He didn’t want to vomit again, he felt bad enough as it was. And he definitely didn’t want Bilbo to leave again because of it. The hobbit looked tired and greyish himself and Thorin wondered when he had been out in the sun the last time.

But Bilbo just picked up a wide bowl from the floor and sat it beside them, before offering the food again. In a soft whisper he urged Thorin: “Just a few spoonfuls. Please, for me.” As if Thorin could have denied his hobbit anything when he looked at him like that, with a hopeful and endearing look in his big eyes, fluttering his eyelashes playfully. With a weak smile Thorin gave in and allowed Bilbo to feed him. He would never, ever have allowed a dwarf to do this to him, but with Bilbo it felt alright. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and when the first three bites settled in his stomach, with the hobbit waiting to feed him more, he felt strangely content at the warmth that spread in his belly and willingly opened his mouth for more.

After about twenty spoonfuls the bowl was empty, and although Thorin was sure that this would not even have quenched his most basic hunger, he felt full. Bilbo held his hand and told him about Bombur who had come up with the idea of overcooked carrots and how his mother had always served him those when he had been a little kid and sick after a party. He told about Fíli and Kíli drawing him a bath, and that he felt much better now, though Thorin still noticed that Bilbo’s face looked pale and tired.

 

Bilbo talked for as long as it took Thorin to close his eyes and drift off to sleep, and even a little while after that. He wanted to make sure – to make absolutely sure – that his dwarf would not throw up again. After nearly half an hour, when he heard the weak but even breaths from his lover, Bilbo allowed himself to relax, put the bowl on the bedside table and cuddle into his dwarf’s side. He was aware that that was not their usual sleeping arrangement, but Thorin was in no state to sleep on his stomach.

Pulling down Thorin’s arm so that he could place his head on the dwarf’s shoulder, Bilbo dragged up the comforter to cover them partially, before he concentrated on Thorin’s calm and even breaths. It didn’t take him long to slumber away peacefully for the first time in three days.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

It was morning, definitely morning, close to second breakfast by the looks of it, when Bilbo was woken by a soft knock on the door. Amazed by how good he felt, he got up and rubbed his sleepy eyes, making sure that Thorin was covered before opening the door. He found himself face to face with a scary-looking dwarf who had an axe-blade sticking out of his head. Rubbing his eyes again to make sure he was awake, he heard his stomach grumble over the delicious smells that rose from the various plates and bowls and pots on the tray the strange figure held.

Still he couldn’t work out how to react to the scary dwarf in front of him. Especially not, when the dwarf dished out a string of words, in the rough language, that made absolutely no sense to Bilbo.

His head whipped around, when he heard a low but amused voice from the bed: “Bifur says ‘Good morning’ and offers breakfast from his cousin Bombur. Apparently your conversation with the chef yesterday had cheered him up considerably, and he would like to show his gratitude with this magnificent breakfast.”

“Thank you, I …” turning around to the strange dwarf who smiled down at him and offered the tray, Bilbo couldn’t help but mirror the smile that was given a little awkwardly. Clearing his throat, he bowed gratefully before taking the meal, and said, “Good morning to you too. Thank you very much for delivering breakfast.”

When he looked at Thorin to see if his dwarf would translate for him, Thorin just shook his head and at the same time Bilbo felt a small tap on his shoulder. When he turned around again, Bifur made a welcoming gesture with his hands, before closing the door again.

Returning to Thorin, relieved that his dwarf looked considerably better this morning, Bilbo slid onto the bed beside him, and took his time inspecting all the plates and pots and cups on the tray. When he found another bowl of mashed carrots, still warm and smelling slightly sweet, he offered it to Thorin who took a cautious bite. After a few moments, when he felt no nausea, the dwarf started to eat slowly but steadily and with every mouthful his appetite seemed to increase. After finishing with his bowl he even stole a spoon full of Bilbo’s porridge, before leaning back against the pillows, closing his eyes.

He had guided his people through half of Middle-earth, yet this breakfast seemed to have worn him down. He looked at his hobbit tenderly, when Bilbo offered him a cup of peppermint tea and begged: “Only half a cup, please.” Willing to entertain his fiancé, he took a few tiny sips, before placing the half-empty cup on the bedside table. Sliding down a little, he watched happily how very much Bilbo enjoyed his breakfast.

When the hobbit was finished and sipped his third cup of tea, Thorin took his hand and kissed his wrist tenderly. In a whisper he said: “Thank you, for ... for taking care of me.”

Leaning over, Bilbo kissed his fiancé on the forehead before scolding him: “What else would I do? You were sick. And that was kind of your own fault. How could you be out in the sun all day without covering you head? You won’t do that again, do you hear me?!”

Thorin lowered his head to hide his smile that lit up his face at the dressing-down from his hobbit, because Bilbo’s eyes showed so much worry and care that the dwarf really couldn’t help but feel cherished, despite the harsh words. He drew patterns over his hobbit’s wrists with his thumb, circling the edges of the bracelet he had forged at the beginning of the summer, and only looked up when he heard Bilbo pleading in a low voice: “Promise me you won’t do that again. I was so worried.”

Now it was Thorin’s turn to comfort his partner. Wordlessly he pulled Bilbo closer and wrapped his arms around the smaller figure from behind. Nuzzling the hobbit’s neck and sensitive ears with his bearded chin, he whispered: “I promise.”

Bilbo’s relieved sigh calmed them both considerably, and it didn’t take them long to drift off to sleep again. Thorin, because he was truly exhausted and still healing from the sunstroke, and Bilbo, because one good night’s sleep simply wasn’t enough after three nights of sleep deprivation.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The next day passed uneventfully, and the day after that even more so. Whenever Bilbo opened his door somebody was there to ask for his needs. He got delicious meals, hearty for him and easy to stomach for Thorin, and after a mere week his dwarf was back on his feet. Unwilling to adapt a lazy demeanour, Thorin voted for a visit to the market, to restock their pantry, even though Bombur and Dori had done a pretty good job at that.

After making sure that everybody was well off, Bilbo left the smial with Thorin, Bombur, Bifur and Bofur on his tail. Everybody was carrying a basket, because as Dori had argued in advance, why pay for a delivery when there were enough hands to carry the goods. The silver-haired dwarf and his brothers were left behind; because Dori had explained that they all had preparations for the caravans to do and shouldn’t overwhelm the village with too many dwarrows.

It was kind of a seedy excuse, and Bilbo speculated that the dwarf simply wished for a little time for himself, to enjoy one of the cook-books Bag End possessed in abundance. Ori was always burying his nose in a scroll of parchment or a book from his library and what Nori usually did … Bilbo wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Anyways, it was a sunny but windy day, and Bilbo insisted that Thorin wore a light hood to cover his head. Strolling over the market, Bilbo chatted with his fellow hobbits, asked about the arrangements for the harvesting and worked off a list he had prepared in advance of their shopping trip.

Stealing glances at the newest dwarrows, Bilbo was very pleased to see them warming up to his family and friends, once they saw that everybody was asking about Thorin’s health and offered small treats to their prince when he passed buy.

Bifur, Bofur and Bombur were truly baffled. The last time they had been in Hobbiton, they had been treated coldly, sometimes downright hostilely. Now everything seemed to have changed. The hobbits were warm and welcoming, downright cheery.

Bifur found himself close to a market stall of a soap boiler, where a little child was crying her eyes out. “No, it ‘urts. Don’ wanna ‘at soap. It ‘urts!” Desperately arguing with her little girl both the vendor and the mother alike tried to convince her, that the mild, camomile soap wouldn’t hurt her eyes at all. But the girl was adamant, not wanting to ever wash her hair and face again.

Stepping up to the booth with only his cousin Bofur as company, Bifur gestured towards the girl, looking at the mother questioningly. When the lady-hobbit made a noncommittal noise, the dwarf took it as permission and lowered himself on his knees in front of the girl, looking into her wonder-filled eyes and asked something in a calm and friendly voice.

When the child looked up at his mother in question, and the lady-hobbit at Bofur for help, the dwarf stepped up to his cousin and translated: “My cousin would like to ask your little lady if she would be afraid of bunnies too.”

Giggling because she was now the sole focus of two dwarrows and two hobbits alike, the girl shook her head. Raising her chin she explained: “O’course not. Bunnies are soft and fluffy and nice.”

When gesturing towards the camomile soap the mother still held, the lady-hobbit gave it up curiously, but dragged her daughter a step back, as soon as Bifur drew a carving-knife from the folds of his clothes. He started to work on the soap with swift fingers, and after a mere moment, the little hobbit-girl pulled away from her mother, to see a bunny coming to life out of the depths of her soap.

After an amazingly short time, Bifur handed the soap that now resembled a fat, little bunny with flatted ears, to the girl, who took it with a thrilled giggle, showing it off to her mother. After paying the vendor, holding open her purse, the lady-hobbit asked: “Thank you so very much. That was really amazing. I have had troubles with Lily for the last two weeks, because she got mint-laced soap into her eyes. How much do I owe you?”

Shaking his head while rising from his knees, brushing off the dirt from the road, Bifur answered her, and once again the hobbit looked at Bofur for translation. With a smile the dwarf complied: “My cousin says that he feels honoured to ensure that the lovely tresses and the beautiful face of the little lady keep getting cleaned and have her shining.”

Charmed by the nice words, the lady-hobbit hugged first Bifur and then Bofur, completely ignoring the stunned look the two dwarrows gave her, before producing two scones from her basket, handing them off to them. Even little Lily pulled at Bifur’s coat, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek with a shy: “Thank you,” before dashing away.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Looking at the two dwarrows calculating, the vendor produced a large box of soap, gesturing towards it. With a crooked smile he offered: “I will give you three shillings for every five bars you carve.” Confused, because why would the vendor think about reducing a piece of his merchandise, just to give it a funny shape, they heard Lilies giggles from the next booth. When they turned around, they found the little girl to be the centre of attention, with several other kids looking at her bunny-shaped soap. Gesturing towards the two dwarrows, Lily seemed to present her soap like some kind of price. Soon more kids surrounded her and even their mothers looked at the carved soap with interest.

It didn’t take long for the booth of the soap boiler to become the centre of attention. With the many kid’s around them, asking if they could also make horses, cat’s, dog’s or flowers, the cousins looked at each other happily. It had been so long since they had been able to talk to children. Even the lady-hobbits dared to ask if they could carve hearts or doves from the soap, as presents for their family and friends.

Grinning at each other, Bifur and Bofur unsheathed their carving knives and within the hour numerous pieces of soap were carved into animals, barrels, jewels, the most wondrous things the children and their mothers could think of. After getting paid quite handsomely, the cousins turned around to look for their companions again. Following Thorin, whose long, black hair easily stood out above the heads of all the hobbits, they remained oblivious to Master Baggins, who had watched them for the last ten minutes or so.

Harvest season was about to begin and suddenly Bilbo had the idea that this year the fauntlings would be especially well cared for. All he had to do now was talk to his grandfather to maybe borrow the town hall for his plan. Because he could think of no other building that could host not only three dwarrows but all the children of the Shire who were too young to help with the crop.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	43. My house is full! - What do you want?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are thirteen dwarrows in Bag End already. Well fourteen acutally because Dís has made herself known pretty spectacularly don't you think? Now, when everybody is here, who could be at the door?

Two days after Thorin’s return to the forge, Bilbo had talked to his grandfather about the upcoming harvest and what his plan for the little children was. As expected, Gerontius was delighted by the prospect of disburdening the parents and making good use of the available dwarrows. They were here to help after all.

That afternoon, while Bilbo was in deep conversation with Ori and Balin, the doorbell sounded again. A little desperate, Bilbo looked at the two dwarrows at his side and pleaded, “Please tell me that everybody we are expecting is here and there is not another bunch of dwarrows standing at my doorstep.”

Looking at each other in confusion, both the Councillor and the Scribe confirmed that, and Bilbo went to his door, vaguely hopeful that there was just a neighbour on the other side, asking for some sugar. But when he opened the door he saw two impossibly tall people standing in front of him. One clad in a long, deep-red tunic, with black hair flowing over his back, while the other wore a teal robe and had silky, deep-brown hair that created a halo around his face.

Completely stunned, Bilbo looked at their faces, only to find the two elves smiling down at him kindly. But the hobbit only needed a moment to gather his wits. Folding his arms he climbed his door-step to reduce the height difference a little (though the attempt was rather futile, because these people were twice as tall as him) and raised his eyebrows, throwing them a stern look.

“I hope you have a good explanation for arriving on my doorstep. Because I have to tell you, my house is full. I doubt that I can make room for more guests who neither had the decency to announce their arrival, nor wrote one single letter, over the last five years. And on top of all that, you have not even brought a present to apologize!”

Sharing a brief glance, both visitors tried their very best to remain serious. With a synchronized bow they took the reprimand and admitted:

“Though it is true that we have not announced our arrival.”

“We had important things to do over the course of the last years, so berating us for not writing should really be out of the question.”

“We have, though, brought a gift to get on your good side again, Master Hobbit.”

Fighting for composure, as he realized that ALL brothers seemed to have a similar way of talking, and with the elvish twins it was even worse than with his boys or Balin and Dwalin, the hobbit raised his chin and asked, “And what do you think will make up for five years of neglect?”

Smiling at each other, they announced, “The Evenstar of our people.” Both took a step back and revealed an ebon-haired beauty that approached the door with graceful steps, while the two regarded the woman with love in their eyes. All three elves looked down at the hobbit with eyes shining full of joy.

Now not even Bilbo could hold himself back. With two steps he was upon them, throwing his arms around the tall figures who had sunken to their knees. Laughing joyfully he declared, “Elladan, Elrohir … it’s so good to see you again. And Arwen, I have missed you so much. Oh it’s so good to have you here.”

Smiling at the overjoyed hobbit, Elladan noted, “Did you notice that he has missed our little sister, but us not so much?”

“Yes, it must be a woman’s charm or something like that. Maybe grandmother had taught her something during her last stay in Lorien,” was Elrohir’s answer.

An answer that immediately earned him a smack from a certain hobbit, “Of course I have missed you too. So very much. You don’t know how happy I am to see you again. It’s been so long! But what are you doing here? Why did you come?”

Revealing the letter Bilbo had sent to Elrond, Arwen said in a soft, melodic tongue: _~You asked for help. Ada didn’t know what was going on and he was worried. Especially after … especially after your parents had passed on.~_

Touching the hobbit’s shoulder to comfort him, the brown-haired twin continued: _~You didn’t explain anything, just that you needed help with worn down soils and diminishing harvest. But you hobbits are so good at growing things that father couldn’t understand why you needed his advice.~_

Mirroring his brother’s gesture, Elrohir added: _~Father couldn’t come himself, though he very much wanted to. Not only to help, but also to say how very sorry we are for your parents’ death. Middle-earth had lost a truly beautiful spirit in your mother and a kind soul in your father.~_

Making a small gesture with her hands, Arwen said: _~So Ada had sent all of his children in his place, to help the hobbits of the Shire, because he knows that you would never ask only on your own behalf.~_

_~All of his children?~_ Bilbo, though confused, seemed to adjust to their language without thinking, and looked past the elves that surrounded him, only to find a young and somehow ruffled looking man standing at his gate, unsure whether he was allowed to enter. And though he lacked the grace and the beauty of the elves, his eyes shone with the same kindness and regret when he finally stepped up to the hobbit.

Gently brushing away the tangled hair, Bilbo looked at the kneeling man in front of him with awe. “Estel? Little Estel?” When the man smiled softly, Bilbo threw his arms around his shoulders as well. “The last time I saw you, you barely reached my shoulder. And now look at you!” Stepping back, he gestured the man to rise, looking up at him with a proud smile. “You have grown so much, and you look so handsome. I am sure that Lord Elrond is terribly proud of you.”

Smiling a little crookedly, blushing because of the compliment, the human explained, “Well, the last time we saw each other was ten years ago. The last time your family stayed in Rivendell, I had accompanied Arwen to Lorien. I am very sorry that I was too late two years ago. The Rangers hurried to the Shire as soon as we had word of your plight, but we were too late to save your parents. I am so sorry, Bilbo. So very, very sorry.”

Bilbo hugged the young human for comfort. At the beginning of his tweens nobody should be forced to take responsibility for the death of other people. Bilbo calmingly rubbed his back and whispered: _~We were grateful that you came. Even if you were too late for my parents, the rangers saved countless others. Always remember that.~_

After pulling back from Estel, Bilbo looked up at the four children of the Lord of Rivendell who had come here on their father’s command, just because Bilbo had asked the Lord Elrond for help. He was moved and incredibly grateful that he could such amazing people his friends. Lowering his head because he felt tears of gratitude rising in his eyes, he stepped towards the door. With a slightly rough voice he offered, “Well, then be welcome at Bag End. Had I known that you would come on a mere question, I would have sent a letter years ago.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When they were all settled in the living-room, Bilbo offered to make tea, something all of his newest guests accepted gratefully. He was just pouring hot water into a pot with camomile blossoms, when he heard shouting from his living-room. Dashing from the kitchen, he found two elves brandishing long daggers, standing before their siblings, facing a dwarf who shouted at them in the language of his people.

Terribly afraid that this situation might escalate – Bilbo knew about his dwarrows’ aversion against elves – he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. Instantly he was the centre of attention.

Looking at Dwalin angrily, he hissed, “What do you think you are doing, drawing weapons in my living-room?”

Concentrating on the elves, Dwalin growled, “I will do everything to protect you and my people. And with this vermin …”

“DWALIN!” Bilbo’s voice was booming through the smial, and within moments every last dwarf was gathered at the doorways of the living-room.

Pulling their siblings behind them, though neither Arwen nor Estel seemed particularly bothered by the presence of a small army of dwarrows, Elladan and Elrohir clutched their weapons tighter, prepared to defend their family against any possible attack.

But that gesture was enough for Bilbo to lose it. How could they think that any harm would befall them in his house? How could they think that his smial was a place for weapons and fighting?

Shouting at the brothers as well, Bilbo demanded, “The same goes for you, Elladan, Elrohir. You will put away your weapons AT ONCE! And if I see you drawing one against my guests ever again, you can sleep in the garden. Am I understood?”

Upon realizing that these newcomers were guests of Bag End too, Dwalin slowly set his axe down, trying to put it behind his back and look non-threatening to appease his hobbit. That left the elven twins the last to stand prepared for a fight. So Bilbo stepped up to them and growled in their own language, to not leave the slightest chance of a misunderstanding: _~You will NEVER AGAIN draw a weapon in my home. AM. I. UNDERSTOOD?~_

Looking at the dwarf who had hid his weapon, and the other bearded people, who eyed them with open suspicion, and finally at Bilbo who seemed angry beyond compare, the twins sheathed their daggers and hung their heads, mumbling in unison: _~Yes, Bilbo. We understand.~_

Relaxing considerably, Bilbo decided, “Good. Now Arwen, will you be so kind and show your brothers the room you will be using during your stay? When you are sure that you can behave like proper guests, you can come out again. I will serve tea for ALL of my guests in the back garden in about half an hour.”

When Arwen passed them by, Estel and the twins in tow, the male elves hesitated when passing Dwalin. The dwarf seemed clearly on edge when the two elves bowed before him and said in unison, “Our apologies, Master Dwarf.”

Once they had left, Bilbo stepped up to Dwalin, anger still glowing in his eyes. “And what did you think you were doing? How could you pull a weapon on my guests?”

Dwalin stuttered a little when faced with the wrathful hobbit. “I … how should I have known that they were your guests too?”

But Bilbo would have none of that. What a stupid excuse! “No? Why on earth would people sit in my living room when they were NOT invited by me? That is a feeble excuse, Dwalin, and you know it. I expected more of you, I am very disappointed!”

And with that Bilbo strode past all the gaping dwarrows in his living-room and returned to the kitchen to finish his preparations for tea. Clearly another cake would be needed if there were four more guests to feed. Sighing slightly, he pulled out his big dishes, gently stroking the edges of the beautiful wooden bowl Fíli and Kíli had made for him, before gathering eggs and flour and sugar from his pantry to start baking.

The tea was just ready when he heard soft feet approaching the door of the kitchen. For some time now nobody had dared to enter, even though Bombur and at least Dori usually helped him with the meals during the day. After placing the pot and four cups on a tray he turned around and was surprised when he found a remorseful Dwalin at the entrance of the kitchen.

“Bilbo, I …” the mighty warrior, who had faced dragons and goblins and travelled half of middle earth, didn’t dare to meet his eyes, instead looked at his feet as if they were the most interesting thing in the room. In a low voice he admitted, “I don’t like the elves any more than Thorin does. They always smiled in our faces but abandoned us in our time of need.”

With a small sigh, because he could understand Dwalin’s reluctance to accept the fair folk, Bilbo contradicted, “But these are not Thranduil’s people. Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, and even Estel, are the children of Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell. They are here because I asked their father for help. Help on the behalf of YOUR people, as you very well know.”

Nodding in agreement, Dwalin admitted, “I know. And I am sorry. I should not have done that. Please, forgive me Bilbo. I promise you, it won’t happen again.”

Putting the tray in Dwalin’s hands, Bilbo smiled up at the dwarf and advised, “It’s not me you should apologize to.”

Accepting the task, Dwalin turned around to leave the kitchen before a thought occurred to him, “You speak the language of their people?!” When Bilbo nodded, he asked, “Why?”

The hobbit smiled and gently nudged Dwalin to leave, revealing, “Because they taught me,” before returning to his dough.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Dwalin seemed to have cleared the air, because soon after his departure Bombur, Dori and even Balin and Ori entered the kitchen. The chef and the silver-haired dwarf started to help Bilbo, cutting and skinning apples for his pie, while Balin and Ori sat at the table.

Bilbo wondered for a moment where Nori and Bifur and Bofur where; knowing his dwarrows as he did, he suspected they were eavesdropping somewhere in the in the dining room. In a loud voice he ordered, “Alright, come in, all of you. I won’t tell this story twice!”

When the other dwarrows entered, Bilbo took his place at the side of the table, and left Bombur and Dori to the preparations for tea. He looked at his hands and wondered where to begin. In a low voice he started, “The first time I came to Rivendell …”

Only to be interrupted by the soft voice of the black-haired elf who now stood in the doorway with his brothers, sister and Dwalin, looking into the crammed kitchen. “The first time you came to Rivendell you were not even born. Your mother Belladonna Baggins was an admirable woman. She had met the Lord Elrond on her travels and was a cherished guest of our father. Some thirty-five years ago – only a few years after her marriage with Bungo – she came to Rivendell again, heavily pregnant, with her new husband by her side.

“They stayed over the summer and Bilbo was born in Rivendell. And that was good, because the birth was difficult and only the skills of our people could guarantee the survival of the mother as well as the wellbeing of her son. The family stayed with us for the whole summer and even the winter that year, because the lady-hobbit who was used to climbing the highest trees and explored the deepest caverns, judged the roads too dangerous for her new-born child.”

Smiling at the love and admiration that resonated in Elrohir’s words, Bilbo continued the story when the elf stopped. “Mother loved the Shire and Bag End, which my father had built just for her. But after a few years, she became restless again, yearning for another adventure. She was in regular contact with Elrond and when he invited her to Rivendell again, she gladly accepted.

“Two trips became three, then four, then five. Our family travelled to Rivendell every five years, and it’s there that I got to know this mischievous lot and learned a lot about the culture of the elves, their people, even a little bit about their magic. There are no people in all Middle-earth who know more about the circle of nature and how to work it to their advantage. If there are people who are able to help us, then it’s the elves of Rivendell. And not only are they able, they are also willing to help. Otherwise they wouldn’t be here.”

Looking from their host to the elves, who had only smiled when called ‘mischievous’ and now nodded in confirmation of Bilbo’s words, the dwarrows suddenly felt slightly taken aback. In their experience elves demanded, they did not help freely. Thranduil had traded with them, as long as he thought the trade advantageous for his people. Now these elves stood there and were willing to help, only because their hobbit had asked them to.

Yet Nori revealed what they all thought, in a nearly inaudible voice, “His Majesty won’t like that. Won’t like that at all!”

The hatred of their king towards elves was widely known, but Bilbo obviously didn’t see a problem with that. Instead he said, “Your king does not have to like it, Master Nori. He just has to accept it. I’m not one of his subjects, at least not for now. And for helping you, I can very well decide upon whom I call to achieve it. Don’t you think so, Councillor?”

The white-haired dwarf seemed to think about this, before deciding, “You will fall under his command once you are married to Thorin. Until then … you might very well do as you please. Maybe it would do our king some good to see that help can come from unexpected allies.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

To say that the Durins were irritated when coming home to find the new guests, would be like saying that dwarrows had a slight fondness of gold. And while Dís proved herself to be the perfect princess, distant yet friendly, Thorin didn’t take the sight of elves in Bilbo’s back garden well at all. Without even a comment, he turned on the doorstep and disappeared into the smial.

Kíli however –ignoring the hatred of his uncle – gaped at the elves and the human in awe. And when he saw the fingers of the twins, when they reached for their tea, he found them carrying similar markings as he did. That left only one conclusion: the male elves were archers.

After that revelation it didn’t take them long to argue about one bow above another, and when Fíli barged in, one sword above another. Even Arwen entered the lively discussion and after half an hour, the two dwarrows were guiding three elves to the great meadow, to compare their skills. When Bilbo followed them with his glance, slightly worried, the young human stood up and promised to keep an eye on them.

Realizing that Estel might have bitten off more than he could chew, Bilbo whispered to him that none of them would be served dessert if they hurt each other or – heavens forbid – the Party Tree. He ignored the snickering that accompanied his departure, when he left the back-garden in favour of finding Thorin.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin was furious. Stomping in circles in their bedroom, he argued with himself whether he should go out into the garden and join Bilbo despite these blasted elves, or wait until the evening to tell his hobbit EXACTLY what he thought about his new guests. It turned out that he only had to wait for half an hour, until Bilbo slipped into the master bedroom, eyeing him with a frown.

Gesturing in the general direction of the back gardens, Thorin demanded to know in an accusing tone, “How could you invite them? You KNOW how much I hate the sight of them. What did you do that for? We don’t need them! They abandoned us in our time of need, I don’t need any do-gooders now!”

Thorin knew that he was irrational. But he had met Ori on his way from the front-door to the back garden and had heard the young dwarf talk about the newest arrivals most animatedly. About the conflict that had occurred and that Bilbo had berated Dwalin and the elves equally for drawing weapons in his home. The young scribe was obviously fascinated by Bilbo’s ability to speak Sindarin. Even more than by his skill to write it.

Now Thorin had a hobbit on his hand who regularly dealt with other races. His family had not been the first foreign guests whom Bag End had housed. Bilbo had adapted his behaviour to their liking, had prepared the rooms, had adjusted his cooking, had done everything to make them more comfortable. But now Thorin suspected that this was not because of the hobbit’s sympathy for the dwarrows, but because he did so for every guest. He should have known, having seen the guestroom for the “big folk” soon after his arrival in the Shire.

And Bilbo had much more in common with these people than with the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains. The hobbits and the elves alike enjoyed their time out in the open. They would never manage to survive when housed in a mountain and denied their chance to walk in the sun. They loved the nature, to work there, to feel the dirt on their hands and to admire the blossoms of every flower more than the most perfectly honed jewel he could ever produce.

 

Bilbo watched his dwarf pacing their bedroom and was more than irritated by Thorin’s rejection of his latest guests. They had talked about Thranduil and the consequences of the Woodland king’s actions for the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains. How much they had suffered not only because his refusal to help when Smaug had descended upon them, but also his neglecting the dwarrows’ needs when they had become refugees. And though Thorin had not forgiven Thranduil for forgetting the friendship between their people, when the dwarrows had been in plight, once he had got it off his chest, he had talked about them with much less venom in his voice.

A venom that was missing now too, despite his harsh, dismissive words. Yet something was off, and it took Bilbo several moments, while he listened to his fiancé’s rants, until a fleeting emotion on Thorin’s face gave away the dwarf’s true feelings. An emotion that Bilbo had learned to recognize on his fiancé, no matter the circumstances, no matter the hour, because he had faced it far too often during their first nights together: Thorin was frightened.

And while Bilbo couldn’t know why, he knew how to pacify his lover. So, completely disregarding his agitated behaviour, Bilbo stepped into Thorin’s path, until the dwarf was forced to face him. Looking up at him, after a moment of silence Bilbo wrapped his arms around his dwarf’s chest. Instantly he felt Thorin’s strong arms enveloping him and after a heartbeat the dwarf buried his face in Bilbo’s neck, inhaling deeply.

 

By Mahal, how did he deserve such a partner? He had been so angry, so worried and yet, without a single word, Bilbo had been able to understand him and obviously was willing to help him through his emotional turmoil no matter what. Gratefully Thorin savoured the feeling of his hobbit in his arms, the smell of his skin, the earth, the sunshine and the lavender, though the soap was only a faint aroma because Bilbo also suffered from the heat.

Thorin hated himself for it, but he couldn’t stop the flinch when he heard Bilbo admitting, “I need them, Thorin.” Yet the only reaction of his fiancé was Bilbo hugging him closer. In a low voice he explained, “They know more about plants and earth than anybody else in Middle-earth. I need them to help feed your people. To save them, because that’s why we are here, aren’t we?”

Burying his face deeper in the hobbit’s neck, Thorin successfully supressed a shiver that threatened to overcome him at Bilbo’s words. Of course they were only here because of his people starving. Why would a hobbit be with a dwarf otherwise? It was an arrangement and nothing more than that. They had found a way to make it enjoyable for the both of them, but in the end it was nothing more than a deal. And didn’t that threaten to break his heart …

 

When Thorin didn’t reply, Bilbo tried to look at him, but his fiancé held him in a strong embrace. He was strong and he was controlled but his breathing was uneven and for a moment Bilbo thought that he had said something wrong. But reflecting upon his words, he couldn’t find anything to have hurt Thorin. He had asked for the elves because the dwarrows were the most important people in his life now. How could he not dig into every source available to help them?

 

When Thorin released him a little while later, Bilbo looked up at him with worry. But his dwarf avoided his glance. Turning around, he rid himself of his working clothes and took the soft trousers and the shirt he usually wore at home, before wrapping himself in a towel and explaining that he would just wash quickly before helping with dinner. When Bilbo stopped him to steal a kiss, Thorin allowed it only too willingly; yet still something was off and the hobbit sincerely hoped that he would be able to talk his dwarf into telling him about it tonight.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	44. Harvesting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You should think with the upcoming harvest, Bilbo has enough on his mind. Well ... not really. 
> 
> There are Bifur and Bofur, Bombur and Dwalin, and ... Dís.

Bilbo was not proud of it, but he completely forgot to ask Thorin about his reaction concerning their latest guests that evening. He had stayed up long past his usual bedtime. Even when all of the dwarrows – except Ori – had long gone to bed, the children of Elrond had still been sitting in Bilbo’s back garden, telling the hobbit of the latest occurrences and developments in Rivendell.

They told him how beautifully the orchard had come around that the Bagginses had helped to plant five years ago. They told about the books they had gathered from a merchant who had raided some ancient ruins and found a true treasure beneath the earth. About the new house Elrond had promised Belladonna during her last visit, where the Bagginses could have lived over the summers they spent in the Last Homely House East of the Sea.

And last but not least they talked about Bilbo’s parents. Bilbo saw the apologetic look in Estel’s eyes, but just squeezed his hand, to assure the young man that it was not necessary. And though the children of Elrond knew that they would eventually lose their last parent, if Elrond decided to travel back to The Undying Lands and spend the rest of his days in Valinor with their mother, it was not the same as losing him to a violent death.

Only Estel could relate to Bilbo because he had lost his father so many years ago, and though Elrond had taken care of him ever since, and he really couldn’t wish for a better surrogate father, a part of him was missing and he saw the same sadness and longing in the eyes of their beloved hobbit that he felt when thinking about his parents.

Close to midnight Bilbo finally called it a night, because the actual harvest would begin tomorrow, and during that time of the year each and every inhabitant of Hobbiton had to help. Because while the village itself was small, the fields and orchards around it were most definitely not, and it took all the hobbits of the Westfarthing nearly one week – where really everybody helped – to collect the fruits and reap the crop.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The next morning Bilbo woke everybody in time for first breakfast. A strong tea and rich porridge was served to quench everybody’s hunger. Bilbo had even provided clothes for them and while the dwarrows felt slightly silly in the short trousers, their hobbit promised them that they would be grateful for them at the end of the day.

Apart from Thorin, who would remain at the forge for emergency mending of tools, everybody else followed Bilbo to the marketplace. There the other inhabitants of Hobbiton gathered over time, yawning and nibbling on scones or muffins to make up for second breakfast. Bilbo had prepared a basket with muffins for his dwarrows and whenever they were called off – usually in pairs or triples – the hobbit provided them with a covered bowl that contained their second breakfast/elevenses.

In the end only the brothers Bombur, Bifur and Bofur remained, together with a lot of fauntlings who leaned tiredly against their mothers. Bilbo shared a look with his grandfather who had called out the working schedule, and guided the last dwarrows into the town hall with the other hobbits following them.

 

He showed them to a nearly empty room, which only held a wide table with fruits, flour and other food, beside a big kettle that hung over the fireplace of the room. On the walls were stacks of hundreds upon hundreds of small wooden blocks.

Smiling at Bombur, Bilbo gestured towards the fireplace. “You will be responsible for the meals today. I know it is short notice, but we have complete faith in you that you will manage. We will come around in shifts during midday and a second time around teatime. You will have to provide for about two-hundred-and-twenty hobbits, as well as about thirty fauntlings.

“Lydia and Myrtle, two lovely ladies who worked on the fields until two years ago, will come and help you. As well as Master Underhill Senior, who lost a leg due to an unfortunate incident in the mill. He will support you as well. They should be around within the next half an hour, bringing the needed bowls and cutlery. And please, please don’t ask Missus Myrtle about her prized pumpkins, you won’t hear the end of it, I swear! So, do you feel up for the task?”

Smiling, Bombur approached the table and made a quick calculation of the provided food. As always it seemed to him far, far too much for the estimated number of lunchers, but by now he had learned that hobbits could eat a lot more than dwarrows. “Yes, Master Baggins. Absolutely. Thank you,” before turning towards his working-place to start organizing it to his liking.

He was slightly bemused when he found a tiny girl with red hair bound into two ponytails sitting beside a huge sack of potatoes. Dangling her feet off the table, she looked at him before deciding, “You are really fat. I bet you are the best cook in the world.”

Smiling at the girl, Bombur took a step back when a flushed lady-hobbit came and picked her up, much to the girl’s displeasure. Berating her child, the mother said, “We have talked about this, Violet! You can’t work here if you can’t remember your manners.” After a little wiggling on the girl’s part, the mother let go and the girl – Violet – approached Bombur once again. Sniffling a little, she said: “Sorry …”

Charmed by the fauntling, Bombur smiled down at her and explained, “I know that I am fat but that’s no guarantee for me being a good cook. Only that I like to eat. Regarding the quality of my meals, I think you should be the judge and taste them. What do you think?”

Beaming at the dwarf, the girl produced a small knife and said: “I am really good at peeling potatoes. Can I work for you today?”

Looking at the mother, Bombur found the lady-hobbit covering her face to hide her laughter. When she nodded her permission the dwarf decided: “I would be very much honoured to have you as my helper today, Miss Violet.”

Obviously delighted by the answer, Violet put away her little knife and lifted her arms. The dwarf looked at the girl’s mother again for direction, and the mother gestured for him to pick her up. Assuming that when the mother allowed it, it would be alright, Bombur lifted the little lady first in his arms and then onto his shoulders. Clutching one of his thick braids, the girl squeaked in delight when Bombur continued organizing the food, but this time explaining what he was doing and why.

 

Bifur and Bofur, on the other hand, seemed to have some trouble imagining what they were supposed to do. So Bilbo explained: “You two will take care of the children who are too young to help. Many of them have toys and crayons with them, but I assume for today you can simply entertain them by showing them how you carve.” Gesturing towards the blocks of wood, Bilbo pointedly missed the disbelieving look the cousins shared.

 

It had been so very long since they’d had a chance to be around children. The dwarrows had lost so many during their travel from Erebor to the Blue Mountains, and even after twenty years in their new home, pregnancy among the remaining lady-dwarves was rare and mostly complicated. If a child was born, the family treated it like what it was: the greatest treasure they possessed.

But now they felt taken back to their days in Erebor, where their store had been overflowing with children every day, picking up or just admiring the mechanical toys Bofur could make or the beautiful carved animals or dolls Bifur produced. They even used to have a lady-dwarf working for them who had sewn clothes for the carved dolls or to created soft bodies for baby toys.

Yet the hobbit-children of the Shire seemed reluctant to approach the two dwarrows. They cautiously eyed the axe that protruded from Bifur’s head, obviously frightened by the weapon. The mothers remained standing beside their children, unsure whether this form of day-care really was really the best choice.

That changed however when little Lily entered the town hall. Letting go of her mother’s hand, she ran towards Bifur as soon as she spotted him. Climbing the dwarf as if he were a tree, in the next moment she was sitting safely on his arm, eyeing the axe from up close. Looking at him with worry she asked: “Does it hurt?”

When the dwarf shook his head and smiled at her, she touched it reverently. That seemed to be the sign for all the other children to leave their mothers in favour of inspecting the two dwarrows from up close. Lily however seemed to have a clear concept of who Bifur belonged to, because she threw her little arms around his head and shouted at the other children: “This one is MINE! He made me a bunny-soap first who doesn’ hurt the eyes. So he likes me best! So go away and take the other one!”

Gesturing towards Bofur, several children actually took her suggestion and tried to climb the other dwarf as well. With two fauntlings in his arms who inspected his beard, his nose as well as his funny hat, Bofur looked at Bilbo, eyes swimming with gratitude.

Yet the hobbit simply sketched a small bow before turning to talk to the two lady-hobbits who remained behind. Explaining the names of the dwarrows – and which name belonged to which dwarf – he introduced them to the dwarrows before leaving the children in the capable hands of their temporary guardians.

 

After successfully occupying his last dwarrows, Bilbo started his way to Farmer Dwelling’s cornfields he had been assigned to. The years prior he had always worked in the orchards, but due to his future responsibilities Bilbo had asked for an occupation in the field. Putting on his hat, he asked a fellow hobbit to show him how to use the rake most efficiently, so that he could gather the straw and bind it together as fast as possible. Soon he made his way over the field after two hobbits who were cutting.

Over the day he saw the elves riding over the fields, wearing only plain clothes, with their flowing hair braided securely on their back. Often they would leave their horses and touch the corn, smell it and examine the soil of the field. Bilbo didn’t know what they were doing, but he had faith in his friends that their actions would help them.

He was more than a little tired and his fingers were raw and red around midday. Master Dwelling himself showed him how to bind long stripes of linen around his hand and fingers, to protect them from the sharp stems. Grateful for the tip, Bilbo enjoyed a little nap before walking to the town hall to pick up his food.

The afternoon was no better than the morning. By the time the sun had sunk Bilbo felt dead on his feet, and from all the tired looking dwarrows that arrived from all directions, his guests didn’t seem to have done much better. Even Bombur, Bifur and Bofur seemed overly tired, yet there was a light shining in their eyes, which Bilbo couldn’t help but mirror once they reached him and shared a hug.

The evening was quiet, everybody far too tired to speak. One by one his guests retired after dinner, and within the hour Bag End was quiet like it had not been since the beginning of the summer. Bilbo on the other hand used the chance to allow himself a tumbler of scotch and a relaxing pipe on his front porch. It didn’t take long before the twins and Arwen approached him.

Estel – they told him – had already gone to bed, he had helped at Mister Maggot’s farm, because the sacks the farmer had bought were unexpectedly big and the hobbits there had needed a hand at lifting them onto the wagons, and afterwards unloading them into the storehouse.

Bilbo listened calmly to Elladan and Elrohir’s explanation about the different types of earth, different crops and what would grow best in what surroundings. What worried the brothers most was Bilbo’s explanation that the harvest the dwarrows had been able to produce had lessened year after year. The elves were also aware that the weather conditions had been more or less stable and favourable these past years, so proper farming should at least provide a constant harvest – if not increase the production with experience.

The only possible explanation they could find was that the dwarrows had simply neglected to fertilize their fields. Bilbo knew that they had ponies, so there ought to be at least a small amount of fertilizer available. None of them expected the dwarrows to know about the natural lifecycle of a field and that they needed regular swaps between corn and vegetables to not leach the soil.

So the first and most important thing Bilbo had to do after this year’s harvest was fertilizing the fields. Yet he had to talk to Balin and Ori to find out what had been seeded where and then they could decide the best way to manure the fields so that they had a chance for an adequate harvest the next year.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

On the morning of the second day, the dwarrows growled a little about their overworked muscles and how strenuous field-work was. They had been told, that the day would turn out to be very much like the first. Since everybody knew where he was expected, there luckily was time for a first as well as an early second breakfast.

Dís, though standing proud and strong between the orchards yesterday, had been particularly tired in the evening. Not used to manual labour, but too proud to admit it, she had overworked herself, and Bilbo had seen the blisters on her feet in the evening. Well, there was nothing to be done about that, at least not in his experience, because the hobbits’ feet were sturdy and didn’t blister and she was clearly to proud to ask for help from Oin.

So to allow her at least a little more rest, Bilbo prepared a small tray with a cup of tea, two scones and a glob of butter for her to take her first meal in bed. When Dwalin entered the kitchen, the hobbit smiled to himself, took a beautiful blossom from the bunch of flowers that decorated his window-sill and hid it between the folds of the napkin, and asked the dwarf to serve Lady Dís. He saw the slightly-reluctant- _cum_ -hopeful look in Dwalin’s eyes and immediately busied himself with preparations for the meal, so that the dwarf could not wiggle his way out of the task.

 

Dís was truly exhausted. Not even in their times of travel had she felt so beaten. Who would have thought that such small creatures like these hobbits could have such an extraordinary amount of stamina when it came to garden-work?

Fighting her way up, she honestly considered skipping first breakfast, though she knew that her stomach would punish her for it later. When she heard a timid knock on her door, she pulled up her quilt again and bade her visitor to come in.

She couldn’t help but smile when her brother’s guard opened the door and presented her with tea and scones. Allowing the dwarf to place the tray on her knees, she opened the napkin to fold it in her lap, only to be presented with the most beautiful flower. Lifting it to her face, inhaling the sweet scent of it, she said: “A flower, how pretty. Thank you, Dwalin.”

Seeing the hidden gift, Dwalin’s cheeks instantly coloured in the most adorable red and he stammered helplessly: “I … I didn’t … Bilbo, he … he put the flower there, I …”

“Yet you brought me breakfast. I am still grateful. Thank you very much.” Oh my god how adorable was that?! The mighty warrior. The fighter, who had stood before Orcs and Goblins and fought not only by her grandfather’s and father’s side, but her brother’s side as well, was embarrassed by her compliment. How very sweet …

Still Dwalin didn’t give Dís a chance to say anything else, because as soon as he reached the door he turned around and fled the room, leaving a slightly chuckling and definitely happy princess behind.

 

“YOU...” Dwalin stuttered, still embarrassingly red, “YOU TREACHEROUS, MEDDLING HOBBIT!”

Smiling innocently, Bilbo asked: “What’s up, Dwalin? Didn’t Dís like her breakfast?”

Stepping up to the hobbit, Dwalin folded his arms in front of his chest and glared down at the smaller creature: “I was not talking about meal but the flower, as you very well know! What did you do that for?”

Smirking at the mighty warrior, Bilbo answered with a crooked smile: “So that you can chose one for her tomorrow and still pretend it came from me.”

When the dwarf lost his composure and only gaped at the hobbit with wide eyes, Bilbo nudged him: “Now go and wash your hands. Everything is prepared for first breakfast.”

 

When Thorin entered immediately after Dwalin had left, the dwarf hugged Bilbo from behind, while the hobbit was stirring the oatmeal one last time, and whispered in his ear: “So my sister and Dwalin?”

Turning around with a smile, Bilbo put his arms around Thorin’s neck and gently kissed his dwarf on the nose. “You saw it. Please tell me you saw it all the time. Dwalin is practically worshipping the ground Dís walks on.”

Enjoying the affection of his fiancé, Thorin pulled back and leaned against the table while Bilbo ladled the oatmeal into a big bowl and decorated it with fresh fruit. “Yes, of course I saw it. He was always like that. Dwalin has admired her from the moment he first laid eyes on her. But he has never dared to make a move. So when our grandfather decided that Dís should marry Dain’s cousin for political reasons, she agreed to it.

“She was lucky because her husband, while a fierce warrior, was a kind soul and treated my sister well. He gained her unwavering loyalty when Fíli was born. They had produced an heir, everybody was proud of them and they were happy for their healthy baby. Dwarrows are not as fertile as hobbits and when a marriage produces offspring than it’s seen as a blessing. When she got pregnant again five years later, and Kíli was born healthy and strong, they believed that they were meant for each other.

“She grieved for nearly ten years after his death in the battle of Azanulbizar. I had a hard time forgiving myself for that. But in the end we both knew that we really didn’t have a choice. Our father had decided to go for the Mines of Moria and we both were honour-bound to follow him. And now … twenty years later, she looks up again and maybe a meddling little hobbit is exactly what she needs.”

“Well in that case, consider me a meddler. Now please bring out the oatmeal. The others are surely starving.” Bilbo offered the bowl with a mischievous smile, before picking up the fruit salad he had prepared.

He was stopped by Thorin, who took his hand and gently brushed a kiss on his inside wrist. With a hushed voice the dwarf said: “Thank you, Bilbo. Thank you for taking care of my family.”

Gently caressing his fiancé’s face with his small hands, Bilbo touched their foreheads, before clarifying: “They are my family too, remember? And I want them to be happy.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The second day was as strenuous as the first, the third even more so. Bilbo learned a lot about cutting crops and all the post-harvest work that had to be done. He was allowed to watch when they threshed the corn, and even try his own hand at it. As in every other matter regarding plant-care, Bilbo picked up the basics quite fast, and was sure he could share it with the dwarrows from the Blue Mountains.

Having seen Estel at the end of the second day, he was informed by the human that his siblings were on their way of inspecting crops further away from Hobbiton. And when he didn’t see them during his third day out in the fields, he didn’t think too much of it.

He suffered through the groans and moans from his dwarrows, they were incredibly tired and worn in the evening. Being a warrior or being a farmer obviously had very different demands on one’s body. So Bilbo offered salves for their aching feet and backs, and simply advised an early retirement, after dinner had been served.

Even Thorin, who had been uncharacteristically silent for the last two days, rose after finishing his last meal of the day and taking care of the washing up with Fíli and Kíli’s help, asked if Bilbo would come to bed with him. Enjoying the prospect of alone-time they shared far too seldom nowadays, the hobbit promised that he would be with Thorin in a minute, and hurried to make his last round though his smial to see if everything was in order. He only left the backdoor open, to allow the twins and Arwen a way in.

He was still hoping for his latest guests to come up with a solution for the fields of the Blue Mountains. He realized that it was very hard to diagnose a problem on mere descriptions. But time was a pressing matter. There was simply not enough of it to allow Elrond’s children to travel to the Blue Mountains, inspect the soil and return to the Shire. So they all were forced to identify and find a solution for a problem with only explanations from princes, warriors, politicians, healers – people who knew less about gardening and growing than the average fauntling.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	45. Heartache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Thorin was bound to be not happy about the elves in Bilbo's life. That's what comes of it. Luckily there are other people in his home, who will help Bilbo through this crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day of my two week vacation. Therefore I will throw a new chapter at you, though it's not even midday in Austria. We are swiftly aproaching the end of Act 4, and therefore another major point in the story. I will post it early Thursday morning, before flying off to Ireland.   
> When I'm away, I won't update, at least it't not planed. I will return on the 17th of August and will see if I will start Act 4 then. I hope you will be patient with me, and hang on, although I realize that I won't make it easy for you.

When Bilbo returned to the master bedroom, Thorin stood in the corner, by the fireplace. His voice sounded a little off when he started, “Bilbo, I…,” only to be interrupted by a knock on the bedroom door.

When Bilbo bade the person to enter, an elf with deep brown hair and a worn look on his face opened the door, peaking in. Looking at Bilbo, obviously not aware that Thorin was in the room too, he asked: _~Do you have a minute, Bilbo? We might have found a solution to your manuring problem.~_

Looking from the elf to his dwarf, Bilbo hesitated a moment before he nodded, “I will be with you in a moment, Elladan. Alright?” He turned towards Thorin and assured, “I will be swift. I promise.”

 

Thorin had not had proper time alone with his fiancé for the last three days, and before that, he had been sick, and before that Bilbo had been gone quite a while. Three damned days, ever since everything was “back to normal”, and when he finally gets Bilbo to their bedroom before the hobbit passes out cold, one of these damn tree-huggers comes along. And the worst of it all … Bilbo was so familiar with them. He smiled at them, and knew their language. He treated them like … they meant a lot to him, Thorin could see that. And now they stole him away again.

Frustrated, angry and even a little hurt, Thorin turned around and snapped, “You know what? Go. I don’t care. Obviously you favour them over me. You have not been at the forge for lunch ever since they arrived and I guess it’s more interesting for you to spend time with your ‘fair’ friends than with a dwarf you are about to marry.” When Bilbo looked at him completely baffled, he pointed a finger at the door and shouted, “Go!” before turning his back on Bilbo, looking at the cold fireplace.

When he heard the door slam, Thorin sank down in the armchair in front of the fireplace and hid his face in his hands. He was shaking all over and had a hard time drawing breath. He should not have shouted at Bilbo. Should not have accused him of things that were beyond his control, like enjoying spending time with his friends.

His hobbit had a clever mind. It was not surprising for Thorin that he had picked up the language of the elves when visiting them regularly. And it was not as if Thorin could teach him Khuzdul. He was not allowed, and quite honestly a part of him was grateful for it, because he knew he wore his heart on his tongue sometimes. He would never be able to look Bilbo in the eyes ever again if the hobbit knew how he felt about him.

And yet … it hurt, knowing that his future husband preferred the company of these elves over his. That he was able to laugh with them, share memories and speak their tongue. Thorin wanted to be able to have such a connection with Bilbo, even his heart ached for it. Yet he knew that it was impossible. They had struck a deal. Bilbo had offered his hand for the salvation of his people. In return he had gained a husband who was bound to serve and obey him for the rest of their shared lives. To expect more of him was selfish and foolish.

Though, Bilbo did care for him. At least usually. He had not left his side when Thorin had been sick. He had not let this blasted hobbit get close to him because Thorin’s emotional wellbeing was so very important to him. Bilbo touched him and had taught him ways of being close to another person, the likes of which he had not even been able to dream about. His hobbit tried so very much to make this work between them, despite how it had begun and that on top of working so hard to help his people day and night.

Thorin felt terribly ashamed now that he had lost his composure. It was not as if the hobbit had an overwhelming emotional attachment to him. They were friends and Bilbo was friends with these elves and even the human. It was entirely up to him with whom he wanted to spend his time. And considering that he only saw these folks once every five years, Thorin should be able to take a step back and allow Bilbo to make time for them.

But even when these thoughts and conclusions were sensible, they hurt so much …

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

After a perceived eternity, Thorin rose from the armchair. Jealousy was useless. Bilbo belonged to him, or he at least belonged to Bilbo. He had to be content with that and snarling at Bilbo out of jealousy, which he really had no right to feel, was unacceptable.

Deciding that it was best to apologize to his fiancé, he left the bedroom to look for him. He stopped dead in his tracks when he found Bilbo in the kitchen, desperately holding on to the human who had arrived with the elves, tears streaming over his face, shaking all over. Thorin couldn’t hold in a gasp at this picture of misery. And while Bilbo still seemed to be shaking, he untangled himself from the man as soon as he saw his fiancé.

“Thorin, don’t … don’t go.” Bilbo’s voice was hoarse and sad, so the dwarf remained at the doorstep and waited, downcast, while his hobbit whispered something to the human in the language of the elves and hugged him briefly, before the man left, after bidding the both of them goodnight. With his head hung, Thorin waited for what was to happen next.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

After Thorin had shouted at him, Bilbo was completely taken aback and had fled the bedroom. Why did Thorin react in such a way? The elves were here to ensure the survival of HIS people! Why was he so hostile all the sudden? But when the dwarf implied that Bilbo favoured the elves over him, something in him snapped.

Bilbo was used to the tiring harvest week. The farmers did everything in their power to prepare all that was needed in advance and were solely responsible for the aftercare of the goods. The actual cutting and scything and collecting was the only thing they needed help with, and everybody was only too willing. Hobbits helped each other out, that’s the way it should be.

What Bilbo had not been prepared for, was what the bringing in of the corn would demand from his body. The hobbit was a scholar, not a farmer, and though he loved his garden, sheaving and threshing grain crops was much more strenuous then picking fruits. Yet he had done everything in his power to learn as much as possible in the given timeframe. And now, his fiancé – who he did it for – shouted at him and threw him out of their shared bedroom.

 

Storming into his living-room he found himself face to face with Elrond’s children. And though they asked him what was wrong, he only gestured them to tell him whatever they had discovered. But after a moment it became clear to everybody that Bilbo’s mind was too clouded to pay proper attention.

They told him something about rye, and growing things off season. But Bilbo was not able to listen properly, and not because of the language barrier. With a sigh he begged, _~Could we do this tomorrow, please? I am grateful for your help, I really am. And I don’t want to dismiss it. I … just … I can’t right now … let us talk tomorrow, alright?~_

Sharing a worried look, the elves only nodded and bade their uncharacteristically skittish hobbit a good night, before retreating to their room. Ignoring the remaining human, Bilbo went into the kitchen and started to scrub a cauldron that had burnt remnants at its bottom. Bombur and he had decided to let it soak in soapy water until tomorrow, but Bilbo needed something to occupy his hands, to stop his mind from going a mile a minute.

Why was Thorin acting this way? Why had he been so mean? Bilbo was working his backside off for the dwarf. Yet all he got for it was muscle cramps, sore fingers and a shouting from his fiancé. Scrubbing furiously at the black remnants of their dinner, Bilbo jumped slightly when Estel approached him and sat down at the kitchen table.

The human said nothing, only watched Bilbo’s attempts to clean his kettle. Finally the hobbit broke the silence between them. “Why would he say something like that? Why would he even think that I favour you over him? That’s stupid! I’m working off the soles of my feet to feed his people. Yet the only thing that comes to his mind is that ‘I am more interested in spending time with my fair friends than with him.’ I have not even seen you for the last two days! And anyways, you are here to help him too!”

When Bilbo finally ended his tirade, Estel chose to ignore the fact that Bilbo presented him with only half the story, and asked, “Did you ask him?” The human’s eyes was deep and kind, when he looked at the hobbit expectantly.

Giving up his useless attempts to clean the pot, Bilbo threw the rag into the sink and shook his head. In a low voice he admitted, “No. I was too hurt by his allegations to say anything. We are about to be married. Our relationship started entirely on the wrong foot and I have tried everything ever since to make it better. Yet he still doesn’t trust me. How can I make this work if he doesn’t trust me?”

“Even when you love someone, you can’t expect them to know your mind. You have to tell them what you feel. Otherwise they will never be able to know you.”

At the soft words from his human friend, Bilbo turned around and said with a sad smile, “That’s beautiful. It sounds like something your father would say.”

Pulling a wooden amulet on a leather string from the folds of his clothes, Estel revealed, “Actually, it was something YOUR father said.” Offering the wooden plate that showed flower engravings on both sides, the human explained, “Some fifteen years ago, not long after my arrival in Rivendell, your father found me crying in the orchard. Elladan and Elrohir had made fun of me and I had run away. I can’t even remember what they said or did, only that I was so very hurt because I thought that they would never like, let alone love, me.

“Your father sat beside me and started to carve this pendant for me from a random piece of wood. He explained about family. How you could love somebody and still be driven up the wall by him, … or her. How much time and effort it took for a relationship to work, and that – no matter how much you cared about someone – you were always dependent on the person to tell you her thoughts. Because you can never see into someone else’s head.”

With a gentle smile, Estel guided Bilbo to sit down beside him and continued, rubbing soothing circles over the hobbit’s wet hand.

“He told me about the first time he had seen your mother. How much he had fallen for her and how exciting and overwhelming she had been. What he had done to gain her affection and how hard it had been for them to work out a way for both of them to be content with their lives. With Bungo wanting a home and a child, and Belladonna needing her adventures. Both of your parents gave in a little and gained so much in return. When he was finished with his story, he gave me the pendant. It held my past and my future, he said, and if I worked only hard enough for it, it would surely come true.”

Bilbo’s heart had clenched painfully when hearing about his father. Bungo had always been such a kind and caring hobbit. Bilbo could see him easily sitting in Elrond’s garden with a crying boy, etching an amulet to give him hope. Gently touching the fading carvings, the hobbit said, “Pheasant’s eye was your past, sorrowful memories that defined your youth. Celandine stands for a future full of joy. My father gave you the best wishes on your way.”

Upon returning it, Bilbo asked, “What happened with your brothers?”

With a shrug Estel explained, “Arwen helped me later that day to talk to Elrohir and Elladan. It turned out that they were sorry already. They had never intended to hurt me, only to poke a little fun at me. The point is, Bilbo, I talked to them. Your parents talked to each other, and you won’t solve anything if you attack an innocent kettle instead of talking to your fiancé.”

“But your brothers love you.” Bilbo whispered brokenly. “And my parents loved each other, and me …” Shivering slightly, he admitted, “I don’t know if I can do this, Estel. I miss them so much. I miss their advice and them taking care of me and promising everything is going to be alright, even when we can’t know it. All this is too big for one small hobbit. If I fail, people will be starving, maybe even dying. How can I make this right?”

Kneeling before him, the young human pulled Bilbo into his arms, comforting the shivering hobbit, as Bilbo had done so many years before, whenever Estel had been in need of it. The man promised in a hushed whisper, “It’s going to be alright, Bilbo.”

“I miss them so much. How can I do this without them?” Clutching onto the taller frame desperately, Bilbo allowed himself the tears he could no longer hold back. The stress of the last weeks finally caught up with him. He had to be strong, to make everything right, yet he simply didn’t know how anymore. Not when the simplest things turned on him.

Soothingly Estel whispered, “You have thirteen dwarrows in your home, who are helping you. On top of that, a grumpy fiancé whom you will have to set right. And you have us, Bilbo – Elrohir, Elladan, Arwen and me. We will find a solution; and if that is not enough, father will help as well. You have to trust us, Bilbo. You are not alone!”

Nodding jerkily, Bilbo allowed the sorrow to wash over him and be calmed by the presence of his friend. He was pulled out of his despondent mood by a gasp from the door. Pulling away from Estel, just steadying himself with a hand on the man’s arm, Bilbo begged, “Thorin, don’t … don’t go,” when his dwarf seemed ready to bolt.

Estel put the pendant back into Bilbo’s hand and whispered: _~It’s the only thing I have from your father, but I think you should keep it. As a remembrance.~_

Shaking his head, Bilbo decided: _~No, papa made it for you, so you should keep it. He will like it that you keep him in good memory.~_

 

When Estel had left, Thorin seemed unsure of what to say or do. He obviously was conflicted because of the intimate embrace he had witnessed between Bilbo and the human.

With a sigh, Bilbo dragged his fingers through his hair, catching the braids in his wake. Tell him how you feel, he can’t look into your head. It had worked for his parents, so it should work for him too, even when his partner was not a hobbit.

“Thorin, sit down please.” When the dwarf sat reluctantly, Bilbo took a place on the other side of the table, facing his future husband.

“Bilbo, I’m …” – “Thorin, I …,” they started in unison.

Before Bilbo could say anything else, Thorin whispered, “I’m sorry.” When he had gotten out the apology without being interrupted, he continued hastily, “You can spend your time with whomever you like. And I have no say in that matter. I am sorry that I shouted at you. That was not right. Please forgive me.”

Looking at his clenched fingers the entire time, Bilbo was terribly endeared by the uncertainty in Thorin’s voice. He wanted to reach out to him, hug him and assure him that it was alright. But if he did that, nothing would change between them. Scenes like that would repeat themselves over and over again, just because Thorin didn’t know why Bilbo had been kept away. He should have explained the change of schedule right at the beginning of the week, so the hobbit decided to bring his fiancé up to speed.

“Thorin, I … no, let’s start this a different way. What you said in our bedroom hurt me. It really did! You suggested that I favour friends over family and that is neither fair nor true. You should not do that again, because it pains me that you think me capable of that. Especially when it could not be further from the truth.”

When Thorin looked up at Bilbo, because his words suggested that Thorin was ‘family’ and therefore more important than ‘friends’ what really was too good to believe it, the hobbit explained, “I have spent the last three days out in the fields, just like everybody else. The reason why I didn’t come to the forge was that I didn’t have enough time for it. I am scheduled for a brief lunch break at around two, because they want the hobbits who work in the cornfields to get as much done as possible before the afternoon sun starts beating down on us.”

Gesturing towards the guestrooms, he continued, “I have not seen Elrohir, Elladan, Arwen or Estel any more than you over the last three days. In fact I have seen far less of them, because they were out in the fields, checking the crops or the soil or something else. They only returned today to talk to me about your fields in the Blue Mountains, and how to best increase their fertility.”

Hiding his face, terribly ashamed of himself, Thorin mumbled, “I am so stupid. I am so sorry, Bilbo. I … oh my god, I really messed up.” He thunked his head on the table.

He couldn’t believe the slight chuckle he heard, until Bilbo nudged his head playfully. Only when he looked up at his hobbit, with sincere and apologetic eyes, could he hear Bilbo whispering, “I would never favour friends over family. Never!”, before kissing his forehead and urging him, “Now, come on, lover. Let’s go to bed.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

As soon as they had closed the door behind them, Bilbo gently pulled Thorin in for a tender kiss. Thorin was unsure, and he had been lonely, with Bilbo not having time for him, and the other dwarrows off to Mahal knew where. Yet he also was aware that Bilbo was as tired as everybody else. While the work in the fields was strenuous for his people, it was nothing in comparison to what it was for the soft and gentle creature he had the privilege of holding in his arms.

Detangling himself from his fiancé, Thorin whispered, “Let’s just … let’s go to bed together. That’s all I want. Alright?” He wanted more, so much more, but Bilbo had had a tiring day and an exhausting evening. And he would rise tomorrow not long after six to provide breakfast for everybody. So Thorin gently helped Bilbo out of his clothes and heard his hobbit’s breaths even out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Pulling himself closer, revelling in Bilbo’s reaction to his hug, even in his sleep, Thorin placed a gentle kiss on the hobbit’s chest. Nearly inaudibly he whispered: _< I am so sorry Bilbo. I should not have doubted you. I love you. Sleep well.>_

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all this time, and this story has turned out to be longer than several books I have read in my past, I want to take a moment to thank my betareader Redone. Though I sing her praise, whenever anybody send's me a message and compliments the story, I feel that it's not enough. 
> 
> She is the most amazing person. She is calm and supportive. She allows me to bounce ideas off of her in the middle of the night and helps me so much with my story that I surely wouldn't be here, without her never-ending assistance. She truly is the best beta-reader any author can with for.


	46. Home is where the heart is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A solution for the manuring problem of the dwarrows is found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have but one request: trust me, please. There will be a happy end.

When Bilbo prepared first breakfast for Dís, Dwalin was just in time to deliver it. Bilbo feigned not noticing the dwarf hiding one of his prized roses between the folds of the napkin as soon as he had left the kitchen. Preparing fruits, nuts, vegetables and scones for first breakfast for those who rose early, Bilbo and Thorin carried everything into the back garden, where they, along with the sons of Fundin and Ori, used to take their first breakfast.

Halfway through it the elves and the human joined them. Ori – still in awe these people – instantly made room for them on the bench, and was soon bracketed by the twins who smiled down at the adorable little dwarf. After exchanging some pleasantries with the dwarrows, Elrohir returned to business.

“We have already agreed that your main problem will be the leeched soil. So you’d better do something about it. Best plant something over the winter and plow it into the soil, ahead of the seeding next spring. There are several possibilities to manure the earth, but from what we take from the reports of this little genius here,” gently nudging Ori, “the climate and the state of the fields demand but one solution.”

Eyeing the elves with mistrust, Dwalin asked, “Why is Ori a genius?” He noticed that the scribe flinched at his hard words and shot him an apologetic look, but when these elves said something about one of his people, he wanted to know exactly why they were saying it.

With a smile Arwen explained, “Master Ori had made detailed notes on what was produced on these fields over the last years. He even included the weed that grew there. Now we know that every weed needs certain properties from the soil it grows in, and by a change of crops, we can bring about a change in the soil.”

Nodding in agreement with his sister’s words, throwing the embarrassed dwarf a respectful look, Elladan continued, “So we know what is missing and can propose the best way to give the earth back what it needs. Red or white clover would work, but we found a large field, past the southern edge of the village, where winter rye is growing. The hobbit there said that it is an experiment, not ready for economic use. But from what we see, it would be enough to seed at least forty to fifty acres of field.”

Downcast Bilbo said, “But they have about a hundred acres of field. That will only cover half of it!”

Now Elrohir spoke again. “It WILL be enough if you plant clover and use natural fertilizers that are available in the Blue Mountains. Mix everything together and work it into the earth.”

When Thorin asked, “What are ‘natural’ fertilizers?” the hobbit only smiled and answered, “Excrement.”

Scandalized, the dwarrows pulled back and looked around Bilbo’s garden with shocked eyes. How could he? How could they? What kind of earth had they been wading through for the past week?

Shaking his head with a smile, Bilbo looked back at the elves again and asked, “So you suggest we harvest every organic matter we can get in the Blue Mountains and … what should we seed on the other fields? Clover? Grass? What would work best?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Elladan offered, “Clover always works. Grass – if not cultivated – works too. Wild flowers would be good. But essential is the winter rye, because it’s extremely nutritious for the soil. You get that and care for the fields as you care for your garden and the earth will regain its strength. You can even keep a part of the corn to repeat the process next year.”

“The only thing is, you have to break up the fields and vary what you are grow there,” Arwen added, and smiled afterwards, “but I am sure that you are aware of that.”

Nodding, Bilbo inquired about the field where they had seen the rye and after a short gasp promised to talk to the owner. Immediately after that, he returned to the kitchen.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

As soon as he was alone, Bilbo sat down the tray he had been carrying and clutched the kitchen counter. Forcing himself to take deep breaths, the hobbit tried to calm himself. He knew who the field belonged to, of course he knew.

He wasn’t particularly happy about the prospect of going over there and talking to the owner. Especially because he thought his chances to get the rye really thin. But it would feed his dwarrows; it would save people from starvation, so how could he not try?

Over his forced breaths he did not hear Thorin approaching him. He only became aware of the dwarf, when he put his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, obviously doubtful, after yesterday, whether his presence was welcome. In a low voice he asked, “What is wrong, Bilbo?”

Holding on to the counter when a shiver wracked his frame, Bilbo just shook his head, before turning around and burying himself in Thorin’s larger frame. Only too willingly did his dwarf hug him, but still the hobbit didn’t reveal the reason for his distress. For several minutes they stood like that, unmoving, not talking, and if somebody was approaching, he had the decency not to enter.

After long moments Bilbo pulled back and forced a smile on his face. Touching his and Thorin’s forehead he whispered, “It’s alright, Thorin. Everything is alright,” before turning away, to gather supplies for second breakfast.

Yet his dwarf obviously was unwilling to let this pass so easily. “It’s not alright, Bilbo. Please, tell me what is wrong, I want to help you.”

With a shake of his head Bilbo looked up and Thorin could see the sincerity in his hobbit’s eyes. His voice was calm, if a little edgy, when he promised, “I will tell you tomorrow. I promise. Just let me get through today.”

Not liking this one bit, but aware that he could not simply order Bilbo to reveal what was troubling him, Thorin nodded and reached for the big pan to help with breakfast.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Second breakfast was a lively affair, because the woken dwarrows filled the table with chatter and revelations about their past week’s work. Bofur and Bifur couldn’t shut up about all the little fauntlings they were taking care of, something that – of course – riled Fíli and Kíli, and they soon compared the adorability of one hobbit child above the other, defending their beloved fauntlings.

Bilbo couldn’t help but smile and decided to go through the day the best he could, without thinking about the dreadful negotiation that was about to take place at the end of the day. It would be tough, but he would do his very best to buy the rye for his people. There simply was no other choice.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Bilbo was joking and laughing about the misfortune he had brought over the other hobbits this morning. He had tried to pile hay bales, and – as a consequence – had not only buried himself, but three other hobbits under the unstable structure he had created. But no one had gotten injured, so they were able to laugh about it.

Encouraging them to share lunch with their wives and children, Bilbo took his own bowl and looked around for an empty table. As always he was nearly the last group who picked up their food, yet still there were free seats. Once facing a tall figure with black hair that was bound … Thorin?

Smiling joyfully at his fiancé, Bilbo slipped into the seat facing him. Obviously Thorin had adjusted his mealtime to share lunch with him, and when the dwarf’s face lit up as soon as he saw his hobbit, Bilbo could not have been happier about it. Soon the hobbit was in the middle of describing his accident animatedly between two spoonfuls of the delicious stew Bombur had prepared.

So it took him a few moments to notice that Thorin suddenly went very pale. Looking at his fiancé with worry, Bilbo found his forehead going sweaty and his hands starting to shake heavily. Anxiously he looked first into the bowl that contained exactly the same food he ate, and then around to find the source of Thorin’s indisposition.

 

Thorin, on the other hand, tried his very best to remain as motionless as possible.

_It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all. He is sitting over there and I am here._

_I will not let this lunch with Bilbo be spoiled by the presence of this despicable creature._

_I will take another bite of Bombur’s stew and concentrate on the beaming face of **my** hobbit._

Everything was perfectly fine. Nothing would take this peaceful lunch with his fiancé from him; especially not an abhorrent creature who had dared to touch him indecently. He was far away, he was not important. Bilbo was important. Gentian was not important. Bilbo was important …

Clutching his hands, Thorin realized that he had trouble breathing.

 

It didn’t take Bilbo long to spot Gentian. Dwalin was sitting at a table next to him, pointedly ignoring him and talking to his brother. Yet the dwarf effectively shielded the hobbit from every other inhabitant of Hobbiton that could think about approaching him.

Not thinking twice about it, Bilbo rose from his seat and took Thorin’s arm. His lover looked pale, turning slightly greenish, and it took the hobbit a considerable amount of strength to get him out of the room without causing a scene, because he knew that this would be the last thing Thorin would want.

He found himself in his grandfather’s office, and as soon as the door was closed, Thorin heaved heavily. The plant next to the door got the remains of Thorin’s lunch.

Holding back the black strands, Bilbo rubbed soothing circles over his dwarf’s back, doing his best to keep him upright. When the dwarf pushed back from the soiled plant, he desperately gasped for air.

Looking at his fiancé with panic in his eyes, Thorin panted, “I can’t … Bilbo … I can’t breathe …”

Pulling his dwarf upright, making sure he was leaning against the wall, Bilbo took Thorin’s face into his hands and forced his lover to look at him. Ignoring the strong hands that latched onto his arms holding him so close that his skin would colour, Bilbo ordered:

“Yes, you can. Look at me, Thorin. Breathe with me … in … and out … calm … take a deep breath … in … and out … very good. You are doing very well. In … and out … look at me, Thorin, only at me … in … and out … that’s it.”

Holding his future husband’s eyes, Bilbo tried his very best to remain calm and concentrated, even when he wanted to kick Dwalin into the next week, because he had allowed that blasted Longleaf in the same room as Thorin.

 

His grandfather entered after finishing his lunch, and seemed surprised to find Thorin and Bilbo there. Yet when Bilbo demanded, “Get Dwalin,” he turned around without asking for an explanation.

When he returned, he poured a glass of whiskey and handed it silently to Bilbo. Nodding gratefully, the hobbit offered it to his calming fiancé. “Can you drink this for me?”

When Thorin nodded and drowned the entire glass, he just took a deep breath, before allowing Bilbo to pull him into a strong hug.

Dwalin blanched at the sight of them. Bilbo, shooting daggers at him from his usually so warm and kind eyes, was enough to put him into his defence. “I didn’t know that he would be here. I picked nearly the last shift because Thorin usually eats around twelve and you rarely get in before two. Bilbo I … I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

Realizing that this was really an unlucky coincidence Dwalin could have done nothing about, Bilbo simply nodded and asked in a low voice, “Can you get him out, please?”

The warrior acknowledged the order with a brief nod and left immediately.

 

When Gerontius gestured towards the couch, Bilbo gently tugged Thorin into that direction and sat down with his dwarf in his arms. Obviously terribly embarrassed by his breakdown, Thorin tried to force himself into an upright position. While he was searching for words, the thain sat down in one of the armchairs facing them. Calmly as if nothing was the matter, he started to ask questions about the upcoming caravan.

Bilbo and his grandfather chatted for some time, and only when Thorin rose on steady feet, did they bid each other goodbye, carefully avoiding throwing Thorin a pitying look.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Back at the forge Thorin stated, “Bilbo, I’m sorry for …,” only to be interrupted by a harsh, “Don’t!”

Hanging his head in shame, Thorin turned to approach his forge to fan the flames. Of course Bilbo wouldn’t want to hear an apology from him. What had happened had been utterly embarrassing and it didn’t surprise Thorin that his hobbit wished to forget it as fast as possible. He fully expected Bilbo to abandon him now that he was back at the forge, unable to begrudge the hobbit his wish to flee after the embarrassing scene Thorin had made.

But instead of leaving him, he felt Bilbo’s small hand on his arm, turning him around. When he dared to look into the warm, brown eyes of his hobbit, he didn’t see shame there; instead he found compassion and a good deal of anger. Bilbo’s voice mirrored these feelings when he demanded:

“Don’t EVER apologize for something like that. You should never, EVER have come into a fifty foot radius of that bastard! I didn’t look. I didn’t pay enough attention. I trusted Dwalin to do it for me, but I was wrong. It should not have been you who spotted him. This was Dwalin’s and my fault and I am so sorry for it.”

Shaking his head, Thorin explained, “I am a warrior, a prince of the Line of Durin. I should be able to handle the presence of any hobbit in my vicinity. I am an utter disgrace to my line.”

But Bilbo only shook his head, gently caressing Thorin’s face. His voice was kind and loving when he said, “No, you shouldn’t. Just because you didn’t get a visible wound from his attack, doesn’t mean that it didn’t cause any. It was an assault of the lowest kind, and you are allowed to react to it.”

“Bilbo, I ...”

But the hobbit just pulled Thorin into a fierce embrace. “Don’t, lover. Don’t contradict me on this, just trust that I am right and allow me to help you. Please.”

Burying his face into the hobbit’s neck, Thorin finally gave in. “Alright.”

Bilbo stayed at the forge for the rest of the day. He ‘borrowed’ one of Bifur and Bofur’s children to send word to Farmer Dwelling, so that they wouldn’t worry about him. Even when Thorin said that he could very well go, the hobbit preferred to stay close to him, helping with minor repairs of rakes and shovels.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Around five Thorin finally called it a day. He knew from experience that when it was past “tea time”, nobody would come to the forge. So he and Bilbo closed up and strolled through town together. Never before had Thorin seen Hobbiton that calm. Usually he waited for the lady-hobbits to pick up their children from the town-hall he could spot from his forge, because he knew that once the last child was gone, Bilbo would be back at Bag End. Today however, he didn’t need to wait for his lover to return home, he was right beside him and that was nearly worth his losing it over lunch.

He allowed Bilbo to lead the way, just content to be at his side, only to realize after a little while that they were not approaching Bag End but another smial at the southern edge of the town. When he looked at Bilbo questioningly, the hobbit told, “I need to talk with my cousin. Please wait here for me.”

When the dwarf looked at his lover who clearly seemed nervous about the upcoming talk, he took his hand, “Bilbo, please, talk to me. What is bothering you?”

Yet his hobbit simply smiled and kissed his nose. “Don’t worry, Thorin. Just give me a few moments. It won’t take long, I promise.”

He was very, very unhappy with this development, but being bound to the hobbit’s will, as well as accepting Bilbo’s desire to go in alone, Thorin sat down on one of the benches that lined the paths of the village at regular intervals.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo rounded the corner to knock on the door of his cousin Otho Sackville-Baggins. Of course Lobelia opened the door and seemed more than confused to find her husband’s cousin at the door. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Otho and Bilbo sat down in the back garden that overlooked the fields where Otho grew the hybrid seed he experimented with every season.

After tea had been served and both hobbits had had a helping of cake, Otho asked, “Bilbo, not that I am not delighted to have you here, but what brings you to my humble smial?”

Putting away his cup, Bilbo decided that it was best to get right into business. “I would like to acquire the corn you have grown this season.”

Shaking his head, Otho laughed, “You can’t be serious, Bilbo. You know that I have spent the better part of the last ten years finding the perfect combination to grow this sturdy rye. I’m surely not selling it when the harvest comes out perfect for the first time.”

Closing his eyes because he had anticipated such problems, Bilbo suggested, “I know how hard you have worked for it, because I was with you from the very beginning. I saw your first crossing and encouraged you to try again whenever it didn’t work out. But today I am really willing to pay every price for the result.”

Snickering condescendingly, Lobelia interfered. “You don’t have anything that would be worth Otho’s hard work. Not even the gold and gems form your dwarrows. With this year’s harvest Otho will have enough to finally go commercial with the planting of his special rye-hybrids. And after all, what do you want it for? You have brought nearly half the stock of the Shire. Surely a few dozen sacks of corn wouldn’t change anything.”

Fully expecting these questions, Bilbo explained, “I need it because the children of Elrond deem it the perfect fertilizer for the fields at the Blue Mountains. The dwarrows have leeched the soil and your corn is the only thing strong enough to make up for that. I need it to save these people, Otho, Lobelia, please, you have to help.”

But even Otho shook his head at Bilbo’s plea. “Bilbo, I am sorry, I really am. But you don’t know how it is to struggle, to work hard every day and never get any recognition of your work. Lobelia is right, not all the gold and the riches of the Blue Mountains will be enough to make up for that. Finally I will get acknowledged for my efforts and next year everybody will be able to buy my rye.”

Putting a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, Otho shook his head sadly. “This is about my life’s work and you have NOTHING that is worth this. I am very, very sorry.”

 

He had to get it. It was his dwarrows best chance for survival. He had to offer SOMETHING that was of equal worth to his cousin’s lifework. But all he had to offer was money, money from his chests, and gems and gold from the mountains. He had books and silverware, doilies and tablecloths, but nothing equalled the sweat and pain and all the work Otho had put into the cultivation of his seed.

 

Closing his eyes, Bilbo thought about his parents and how disappointed they would be if he was not able to provide for his new family. They had done everything for their family, had always made sure that they were happy. Bungo had provided a comfortable smial and Belladonna had made it a home.

But not only Hobbiton had been his home. During their travels, his mother had made every room, every clearing in the woods, even every cave where they had taken shelter, a home for them. Simply because she had filled it with laughter and stories and the certainty that they were exactly where they belonged: together.

When they had arrived in Rivendell for the first time, Bilbo had been in awe of the breathtaking structures. Yet the little hobbit child had felt so very unsure in these strange surroundings. At least until they all had been settled into a room and his mother and father had started singing, while unpacking and pulling Bilbo into their midst with their lovely voices.

Bilbo remembered Thorin singing in front of his fireplace and Fíli and Kíli in front of him, lounging on the carpet. He remembered his dwarf, smiling at him, encouraging him to read from one of his books, as soon as he was finished braiding the hair of their boys. And suddenly Bilbo knew … knew what he could offer, that was of equal worth to Otho and his wife, to strike this deal.

“Yes, I have: Bag End.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	47. Act 5

* * *

# Act 5

* * *

 


	48. Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deal is struck and a certain dwarven-spy learns a lot more about a very special hobbit than he could have ever believed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have all been so very patient with me, and as for me being back at home - after doing the first round of laundry and a brief lunch - I will continue the story for you. I know the cliffhanger has been quite harsh and the idea of Bilbo loosing Bag End doesn't sit well with anybody, not even me and I wrote it, but our little hobbit has to be moving forward, without being chained to his past.
> 
> But I swear to you - fingers crossed and all - that there will be a happily ever after for all of them. Bilbo will find a new place he can call home and he will be content there, with his family all around him. It will take a while ... quite a long I'm afraid, but we will get there. I promise!

“No!” Otho shouted, blanching at the offer.

“YES!” came the acknowledgement, underlain with triumph, from Lobelia.

Yet – despite his wife’s agreement – Otho shook his head. His voice was firm when he decided, “You can’t do that, Bilbo. That’s your home, Bungo built it for Belladonna, you can’t just give it up in exchange for corn!”

Bilbo had been nervous, nearly anxious before, but now, after making the decision, he felt at peace. He knew that what he did was right, his parents would have agreed too, he was sure of it. And while he knew that it would bring pain and heartache, he was willing to see it through. “Otho, you asked me what would be worth your life’s work, Bag End is. It’s a good smial, modern and spacious for when you two will have kids.

“And you want it, wanted it ever since my parents died, and we both know it. I am willing to offer. Be smart and take it. I don’t want your whole harvest. Keep enough to plant again next spring, it will only set you back one year. And by then you will have a respectable smial and appreciation for your hybrid seed.”

Bilbo knew that he would be able persuade his cousin when Otho nodded nearly unperceivably as was actually listen to him. Therefore he suggested in a calm and steady voice: “We will make a contract. You will give me your winter-rye and I will plant it in the fields of the Blue Mountains. I will return in one year’s time and then give you the key to Bag End.”

“Oh no. No, no, no, no, no! You said you were willing to trade Bag End for our seed!” Lobelia seemed infuriated that her life-long desires seemed to slip through her fingers.

Otho made an impatient gesture towards the smial’s back-door and ordered, “Lobelia, get in. I want to talk to Bilbo alone.”

“But Otho …”

“Go!”

Not used to being ordered around by her husband, Lobelia blanched a little. But when she saw Otho’s hard eyes she complied without another word.

 

Sighing tiredly, Otho looked at his cousin and asked in a low voice: “Why, Bilbo? Why are you offering your home for these people? I know you are engaged to their prince, everybody knows that ever since the trial. But that does not mean that you have to give up living here. Why not keep a home where you can come back to?”

Smiling sadly, Bilbo explained: “Do you really think a marriage has a lot of prospect of being successful, when one partner keeps a safety net he can fall back to? That’s like planning for something to go wrong from the beginning. My father invested everything he had, and even more into Bag End. He never thought that he couldn’t win my mother in the end and neither did she! I won’t allow myself to think any other way with Thorin.

“You want Bag End. You always wanted it. You will make your wife happy and still be able to have the respectability and the appreciation from the community for your life’s work. One year, Otho. I need one year to make myself a home in the Blue Mountains. Feeding the dwarrows is more important for now, so I need to keep Bag End in order, I don’t have time to clear it out. But I can sign a contract to promise that you will get it. Is that good enough for you?”

Looking at his cousin long and very hard, Otho weighted the pros and cons of Bilbo’s offer.

True, Lobelia, and even he, had always had their eyes on the smial.

True, Bilbo would be away … maybe forever, once he was married.

It was not as if Thorin could give up his right to the throne. It was a sensible solution. So why did it feel like he was robbing Bilbo of his birth right?

Yet his cousin looked at him with determination. If Bilbo had made up his mind, why shouldn’t he agree? And leaving a beautiful smial empty would really be a waste. So Otho offered his hand and Bilbo shook it, clearly relieved by his cousin’s decision. “We have a deal then. We will go to your grandfather and set up the contract. You will get nine tenths of my seed and we will get Bag End at the end of next year.”

Relieved, truly relieved, Bilbo agreed and then hugged his cousin tightly. “Thank you, Otho. Thank you so very much. Let’s meet at my grandfather’s smial around eight tomorrow. That will give us enough time to draw up an agreement and still be ready when the harvest continues.”

After sharing some meaningless but very polite pleasantries with Lobelia, Bilbo left the smial.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

In his chest his emotions were at war with each other. On the one hand he felt relieved beyond compare, nearly giddy with joy, at the prospect of having acquired the necessary seed to manure the fields of the Blue Mountains. On the other hand, he felt like his heart was wound up in a tight little ball and he would burst into tears within seconds.

He took a deep breath and carefully schooled his features, when he approached Thorin, who sat on a bench in the shadow of a great tree. Bilbo couldn’t help but smile, when realized that his fiancé had kept his promise of keeping out of the sun and carefully chosen the part of the bench that was shaded by the branches. One sunstroke seemed to be enough for the dwarf to learn that living above ground had its dangers, even in the peaceful environment of the Shire.

“I got the rye. When Otho has harvested it, he will give us nine parts of the crop, keeping one part for himself for planting it next year. That should be enough to do the trick,” Bilbo explained with a forced smile on his face.

 

Thorin couldn’t feel more worried about Bilbo if he tried. His hobbit was shaking slightly and though there was a small smile on his face, his fists clenched and unclenched at regular intervals. Bilbo was bringing great news, truly they couldn’t be better, but why did his lover look like he was on the verge of falling apart?

Sensing that an open question might not be rewarded with an answer, Thorin pulled his jittery hobbit in and breathed into his hair: “That’s wonderful, Bilbo. Thank you.”

 

The dwarf had learned that hobbits tend to offer three solutions to any problem that occurred:

First, offer tea. The brewing and preparing took time that could help everybody to settle down. After that, the process of drinking it was calming in itself. Few problems could not be talked through over a cup of tea.

Second, offer food. While this was the general “go for”-action, whenever two hobbits came together, agitated or not, it always brought smiles on their faces and seemed to make them happy, no matter how distressed they had been in the first place.

Lastly, offer comfort. Hobbits were much freer in their display of affection. And while Thorin had had a hard time in the beginning, when people who were truly happy because of the quality of his work, tended to hug him, he had got used to it after the first month and now returned the affection easily. Bilbo had always been the only one with whom he had felt emotionally compromised when hugging him.

 

Now he knew the reason. Affection was easy when you liked the person you were offering it to or received it from. But Bilbo had always been more to him than someone he had merely “liked”. The hobbit had meant so much more to him right from the beginning. And now, when he felt that Bilbo was on the verge of falling apart, he wished for tea, and biscuits and cake, but all he had to offer was a hug.

Yet it seemed to be enough for his hobbit, because after a mere moment, Bilbo latched onto him and buried his face in Thorin’s chest. If the dwarf could feel wetness seeping through his clothes, he was determined to pass it off as sweat, because it was a hot day and they were very close. Mostly because he couldn’t, he simply couldn’t deal with Bilbo crying in his arms, when he had no prospect of making him better or even understanding the source of his pain.

For Bilbo, however, it seemed to be more than enough, because after half an hour he sniffed discreetly, blew his nose and kissed Thorin on the tip of his nose. Touching their forehead affectionately, Bilbo whispered: “Thank you,” before taking his fiancé’s hand and returning home.

Thorin wished that Bilbo would trust him, trust him enough to share with him the reason for his anguish. Yet his hobbit obviously didn’t plan to, so Thorin made a mental note to send Nori off on an “investigation” to find out what Bilbo had given up to make the trade with his cousin.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Nori, first “information officer” of the King of the Blue Mountains, stood silent and hidden beside the smial of the Sackville-Bagginses through the whole negation between Otho and Bilbo, ‘accidentally overhearing’ what was said. He had worked on these fields for the entire week, alongside his brother Dori, and more than once had he taken notice how much nicer “their” hobbit was, in comparison to the Mistress of this house.

He couldn’t understand why this Bilbo Baggins was willing to give up his home for Nori’s people. Yet the clever hobbit found valid arguments to persuade his cousin to deal his corn in exchange for Bag End. Not quite believing his ears, and as curious as a cat, the dwarf, had stayed hidden during the whole exchange, waiting until Bilbo had left, then counted to fifty, before stepping around the corner to make himself known.

“Master Sackville? We have finished the western field. Do you want us to start on the last one? Master Underhill says that if we make haste, we will be able to wrap it up today so that the straw can dry overnight. That would only leave the threshing and bagging for tomorrow.” Nori delivered the message he had been given by one of the other workers with a straight face. Nothing betrayed him as eavesdropper, the very reason why he was so good at his usual line of work.

With a thoughtful face the hobbit nodded: “Yes, please, Master Dwarf. Finish the last field, but mark the bags that will be filled with the corn. We will store them separately.”

Relieved that this hobbit was obviously willing to honour the trade, Nori bowed and made sure to pass on the message. Not that he had met a hobbit who had been unfaithful or treacherous until now. But if Master Baggins was really willing to give up his home for it, he would make damn sure that they would get what their hobbit was paying for.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin threw Bilbo worried looks all through the evening. Yet – after his emotional breakdown – Bilbo felt much lighter. It hurt being here, seeing Bag End and knowing that his time here would come to an end. But Bilbo had known that this would happen all along. Thorin was more than a simple dwarf, he could have never lived in Hobbiton, he belonged to the Blue Mountains, with his people. So giving up his home here, in favour of creating one in the Blue Mountains, really was the only sensible decision for Bilbo.

Selling Bag End off to the Sackville-Bagginses only made it a little more final. But Bilbo had been given a year. Maybe he could find a spot in the Mountains where his things would find a place. His little Bag End, as part of the big Dwarven Kingdom. Calling himself silly because of his sentimentality, Bilbo picked up his pipe and tobacco to take a seat in front of his smial where he would enjoy a relaxing pipe and wipe away his remaining worries.

The Durins took care of the washing up. Balin was calculating if they would need another wagon for the additional seed, and Dwalin was making plans for how to best keep a certain hobbit and a precious dwarf apart. The rest of the dwarrows sat – tired but happy – chatting in the back-garden. Each of them nursing a tumbler with spirits Bilbo had offered after supper.

 

Looking over Hobbiton, counting the stars that lit up in the night sky until there were too many to count, Bilbo breathed in the fragrances of his home. The lavender from Hamfast’s garden, the lilies by his door, the small flowers and herbs that grew wild in front of his smial, because he had never had the heart to pull them out because his mother had liked them so much. Sometimes nature just has to have its way, she had always said.

He would miss this; he would miss this so much. But he could not think of a better solution than to give up what he would lose anyway, in favour of making sure that his dwarrows survived.

 

Bilbo didn’t hear Nori, until the dwarf slipped onto the bench next to him. Offering his pipe-weed, which was accepted with a grateful nod, Bilbo and Nori sat in companionable silence – something that was a little strange for the hobbit, because he had come to believe that Nori didn’t think too much of him – until the peak-haired dwarf asked in a low voice, “Why did you offer your home?”

Looking at his benchmate, Bilbo knew better than to deny it. Nori had sharp eyes and a quick mind. He had proven to be nearly invisible, but around every single time when Bilbo had interacted with his younger brother. Obviously the hobbit was under close scrutiny, even when he was not at home. He wanted to ask why, why it was so important for the dwarf to know, but still he had the feeling that he would not get a straight answer.

Therefore he simply opted for the truth. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain, because Bilbo could never allow Thorin or the others to know about this deal. They liked him too much and would move heaven and earth to find another solution. But that would only anger Otho and Lobelia, and in the end they wouldn’t get anything.

“Because it was the only thing Otho would accept as payment,” was Bilbo’s answer. “And I would be really grateful if none of the others would find out about that, it would only worry them. That’s something between me and my cousin and I don’t want anybody to interfere. Can you do this for me, Master Nori? Keep my secret?”

 

Nori looked at the hobbit long and hard. He had been involved in the correspondence between the thain and his king right from the beginning. Well not exactly involved, more like … personally informed by his own choice. But he had known the costs and the gain of the trade between the Blue Mountains and the Shire ever since springtime. And like everybody else, he had hated the Old Took for his demands. He still felt no sympathy for the hobbit, even when everything had turned out well.

And now, the creature who had chained a dwarven prince to his side, who had managed to strike a deal where a member of the noble Line of Durin was bound to serve and obey him for the rest of his life – at least if they could trust the letters – was willing to give up his house, his home, to help the people of his fiancé. It didn’t make sense! They were dwarrows! Nobody stood by their side in times of need. They only had their own race to rely upon. Yet this hobbit was willing to give up that much, just to help.

So all Nori could do was shake his head, admitting in a low voice: “I don’t understand.”

“Why I want to keep it a secret or why I am willing to give up Bag End?” Bilbo had watched Nori’s inner turmoil because, for the first time ever since he had met him, it had clearly shown on the dwarf’s face. He had thought the dwarf cold, wary and distant, and yet there was so much hope and heartache underneath it all, that Bilbo desperately wanted to hug him to make him feel better. Yet he knew that this was most likely not welcome with the auburn-haired dwarf, so he refrained from even trying.

Yet Nori shook his head and confessed: “None of it. You have offered work and respect for your guests, when you could have had them scrubbing your floors. Something we would have done when meeting the people responsible for the death of some of our own.

“You have fulfilled your grandfather’s demands, even when you had every right to expel the princes from your home, after finding out about the contract … about them lying to you.

“You have gone to any length to ensure that everybody would trade with us at a fair price, even when you could have overcharged us, because you know … you have to know … that money is not an issue with us. We have more gold than we need, yet you did everything in your power to ensure that we get everything and more and only pay what is due.

“And now you have put your own home on the table to make sure our fields get manured, and you don’t want anybody to know. Why is that? Even when there was no other chance to deal with your cousin, why not acknowledge the deal publicly, so that our King could compensate your for it?”

 

With a sad smile, Bilbo touched the bench that his father had chosen for this place. The bench Bungo had acquired and then sanded and coated with oil and polished so that it would shine. In a whisper he asked: “And what good would that do? Do you think your king can give me this bench after I have given up Bag End? That he could give me back my memories? That he could magically transform the mountain to look like a smial? Like my home?”

Shaking his head, Bilbo forced himself to look at the dwarf by his side. “Nothing your king can give me is worth my home. And I already got his most valuable possession: his son. I have just made sure that I am worthy of him, by ensuring that this trade was not made in vain. Telling somebody … anybody … about my deal with Otho would bring confusion and pain, and change nothing. So why should I burden anybody else with my decision?”

Nodding slightly, Nori couldn’t keep himself from asking: “And the rest?”

With an honest smile Bilbo turned his face to the dwarf. “I offered them work where the most hobbits in our village would gain something. We needed, desperately needed a smith, and Thorin enjoyed working at the forge. I was a little selfish – favouring my family over others – by assigning Fíli and Kíli to my cousins, but it worked out nevertheless, because with the help of the boys, Falco has been able to do so much more than his usual share this summer. And after all, my floors are fairly clean by my own doing, so thank you very much for the suggestion that dwarrows could make them better.”

Bilbo winked and pretended not to notice when Nori got a little red around the cheeks because of his teasing. “I have ensured that the contract was fulfilled because it was not right of my grandfather to demand it in the first place. He was angry and sad because of the death of …” trailing off Bilbo took a deep breath before correcting himself, “Because you … I mean the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains … had not helped us two years ago. But it was not right of him to ask for a life in return. I had the chance to set this right, so I did. It’s as easy as that. And regarding the money …”

The hobbit looked up to the night sky, thinking about how to describe to a dwarf something that came so naturally for a hobbit: to treat people decently. “I’m afraid that I might not be able to answer your last question, Master Nori. Because while your life seems to consist of gathering … gathering gold, gathering gems, gathering values … a hobbit’s life is much easier.

“I know our traditions … our way of living … must seem superficial, maybe even shallow for you. We value our fields, our gardens, our food … but there is so much more to us hobbits than that. We value people over anything else. Nothing is more important than happiness. A good meal, a decent wine, a warm cup of tea, a joyous party, a beautiful blossom … all these things have but one goal: to make us content, even happy.

“In the Shire nothing is more important than that. We don’t fight with each other over petty gems. Sorry, but you know what I mean.” Bilbo interrupted himself when he saw Nori’s scandalized look when the hobbit called gems ‘petty’. “We have family feuds over the ownership of a silver spoon, don’t be mistaken. Or who said what to whom first when two clans are fighting. Because honestly, everybody needs a little excitement in his life.”

With a wink he continued, “But no hobbit would ever send another away when one is in honest need of help. No feud is significant enough to neglect the most basic needs like food, medicine or protection when one asks for it. We can be a stubborn bunch but in the end we know what’s important.” Sighing slightly, he remembered the playful fights between his mother and her siblings, whenever they had spent some time at the Great Smial. Siblings fought, so his mother had always told him. It was their duty to keep their parents on their toes. He remembered the nudges and little kicks under the table, with all of them laughing about it in the end, and his heart ached thinking back on it.

 

“Who did you lose?” Nori’s voice was nearly inaudible and Bilbo had to look at him, to make sure that the dwarf really had spoken. When two, dark orbs looked at him questioningly; the hobbit only shook his head, pushing back the memories and attempting a light tone: “That’s not important. I …”

But for the first time, Nori put a hand on the hobbit, forcing him to stay at the subject. In a serious voice the dwarf demanded, “It is important, to me. I will keep your secrets if you trust me with them. You won’t burden me by answering me any more than I already am.”

With a silent sigh Bilbo admitted, “Thorin knows anyway, and Fíli and Kíli as well. He revealed it when the sons of Fundin arrived, so I …,” looking at the dwarf, the hobbit realized that he would not talk his way out of it. So he looked at his hands and admitted, “My parents.”

“When?”

“Fell winter, two years ago.”

Nori swallowed audibly before saying, “Because we didn’t send help.”

“Maybe, but we can’t know that,” was Bilbo’s whispered answer, but before he could say more on that matter, Nori had already abandoned him. With a deep, unsatisfying drag form his pipe, because it had long gone cold, the hobbit leaned back against the bench, to look up at the stars again. At least they would be the same in the Blue Mountains as they were in Hobbiton.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	49. This is what we are

Nori returned to the back-garden on swift feet. Nudging his little brother, who sat beside the elves, he beckoned him into their room, to have a chance to talk to him without being overheard. “Ori, you have to do me a favour.”

Puzzled by his brother’s strange behaviour, the young dwarf looked at him with worry. “Of course, what do you need? Is everything alright? How can I help?”

Bringing forth a leather-bound book, something he usually filled with his reports, Nori ripped out the first few pages he had already written on, and offered it to his little brother. In a low voice he asked: “I need you to fill this book with pictures of Bag End. The outline, the rooms, it does not have to be perfect, it just has to contain everything that is important, the size, the furniture … decide on your own, you are good at these things, paying attention to detail. And be discreet about it. Can you do that?”

Looking at his brother with concern because of the unusual request, the scribe asked: “Is something wrong, Nori, with Master Baggins or the smial?”

Vaguely frustrated because he couldn’t tell his brother why he needed the pictures without going back on his word, Nori sighed slightly, lying through his teeth, “Nothing is wrong, Ori. Please, I rarely ask anything from you. But this is important. Can you do it for me, without drawing attention to it?”

Looking at his middle brother, the scribe seemed lost in thought for a while. Nori had to withstand the impulse to nudge him again, to find out whether he had fallen asleep while standing, even with his eyes open. But in the end the young dwarf nodded his agreement, though he still demanded: “You will tell me why you need them. Promise me! And if there is something wrong with Master Baggins, I want to know. I want to help! He’s a good person, Nori, he really is.”

Smiling slightly, Nori touched their foreheads and whispered: “Yes he is, Ori, more than you know. And I promise, I will tell you what this is all about; at the end of the next year at the latest. But for now it has to be our secret. That’s very important. Alright?”

Calmed a little by his brother’s promise, Ori hid the book in one of his bags and left their shared room, after giving in to Nori’s demands, most likely to study the floor-plan of Bag End.

There were many things you could say about Nori’s little brother, but when he did something, he did it thoroughly. Nori didn’t have the slightest doubt that he would have the chance for a perfect recollection of this smial, once his brother was done.

What he could make of it … well, that remained to be seen.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

On the second to last day of harvest week a huge caravan arrived from the Blue Mountains. Now even the inn-keeper of Hobbiton was playing host to several dwarrows. Nearly a dozen had accompanied the caravan, and as soon as they arrived, Dís left the fields. She met with them, picked up parcels form the mountains, sending them off to Bag End immediately, and then started to organize the pickup of the acquired goods.

Everything was strictly counted and written down, even when the hobbits turned out to have a somewhat hazardous approach to the packing of goods. Who cared whether there were twelve or thirteen apples in a basket? A dozen was only a general number of what the said basket should contain! So the sack didn’t weigh exactly twenty-five but twenty-seven pounds, who cared? It had been a rich year, they could afford giving it away.

Bilbo could only smile at the tired and frustrated Dís, who had serious troubles maintaining an overview over everything that was about to be delivered to the mountains. On the evening of the second day she was so irritated that when Bilbo served her four dumplings with her soup, instead of the requested three, she snapped at the hobbit. “Why, by Mahal, are there four? I asked for three! Don’t you hobbits learn to count? What is wrong with you?!”

Being fully aware of the problems Dís had come across, because several hobbits had talked to him after the trade of the goods had taken place, Bilbo only smiled and answered: “Well, you are my favourite sister-in-law-to-be … let me spoil you.”

Irritation morphed into stunned realization when a thought occurred to Dís. “You knew. You planned to give me more than my share right from the beginning.”

Shrugging his shoulders, like this was not important at all, serving the others, Bilbo brushed it off. “Of course, I am a hobbit, I know my food,” before turning back to her, looking into Dís amazed eyes with a kind smile.

In a whisper she said, half asking, half telling, “They never miscalculated …”

Only to have her future brother-in-law laugh in a low voice, repeating himself, “We are hobbits … we know our food.”

Surprised by the unthought-of generosity of the Shire hobbits, Dís stated, “But we can never pay them exactly what they are entitled to get, according to the contracts we signed. There is no system behind it. We would have to weigh every sack and count every apple. There is no _time_ for it!”

He nodded gratefully to Bombur, who took the pot out of his hands, serving the others, with Dori as his help. Bilbo went to Dís, crouching down beside her, so that he was a little below eye-level even when she sat on the garden bench, and took her hands, rubbing them soothingly. In a placating voice he suggested: “Pay them what was agreed upon in the first place. That’s all they expect.”

Shaking her , the princess said, “But that wouldn’t be fair …”

Yet Bilbo interrupted her, stating softly, “This is not about you being fair. This is Hobbiton showing that we care about the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains.”

“You knew!”

When Bilbo nodded with a brilliant smile, clearly proud of his people, Dís leaned down to touch their foreheads, whispering, “Thank you … thank you so much, Bilbo Baggins.”

Hugging his fiancé’s sister briefly before rising again, Bilbo suggested, “Say that to them, not to me. It’s the only reward they need.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

After dinner, the princess passed out the huge parcels that had been sent by her father. Excited to see what they contained, Bilbo was clearly disappointed when Fíli and Kíli, as well as Thorin, merely nodded in thanks, but kept them closed and vanished into the smial. It didn’t take the hobbit long to find a pretext to follow.

He peeked into the boys’ room first, hearing them giggling.

“You have grown chubby around the middle, Kee. I won’t fit any more!” Fíli was clearly amused when Kíli tried to close a buckle on his armour. Bilbo saw it in the dim light of the dying sun, but it looked worn, broken and mended, and for the first time he realized that his boys … no, the two young dwarrows who had enjoyed playing mischief in his home during the summer, were warriors. His breath hitched when he thought about the battles they might have fought, to get the armor looking as it was.

The brothers turned their heads towards the noise and as soon as they spotted him, Kíli pouted: “I’m NOT chubby. Tell him, Bilbo. There is something wrong with the armour!”

Swallowing down the dark thoughts, Bilbo entered the room and inspected the leather gear. With a forced smile he touched the buckle, only to find it wound in on itself and was therefore far too short to close. Something Fíli HAD to have noticed before. Looking at the elder brother with censure in his eyes, Bilbo untangled the buckle and closed the armour properly. It fit like a glove and Kíli sighed happily.

With only a tiny bit of remorse Fíli stepped to his brother and tinkered with a band of leather that nearly came off on its own. With serious eyes he stated, “We need to mend it before we return home. Broken armour is as good as none. It won’t protect you sufficiently, Kee.”

When the boys inspected the tear, Bilbo stepped back and left them to their devices.

 

When he entered the master bedroom, he found Thorin in a similar position, holding up his brigandine, inspecting it for faults. There was one particular scale that made him frown when he wiggled it. Bilbo had to clear his throat twice before he managed to say, “It’s … a beautiful armour. Why didn’t you wear it upon your arrival?”

Thorin snickered humourlessly, still tinkering irritably with the piece. Distractedly he answered, “Yea … sure. Dwarven servants in armours fit for princes? Who would have believed that we were willing to degrade ourselves for you? Your thain would have thrown us out, faster than we could have said ‘Mahal’s beard’.” The scale finally in hand, Thorin spoke a very unpleasant word in Khuzdul, frowning at the piece as if it had offended him personally by coming loose.

“Yes … of course …”

Bilbo felt a heavy stone settling in his chest, so substantial that he had trouble drawing breath. Yet he called himself a fool for ever thinking that his dwarrows … THE dwarrows, would have thought their stay here in Hobbiton anything but degrading.

They were princes … future kings! What a fool he had been to think that they could have been content with a life as blacksmiths or wood-workers. He turned away to hide his disappointment when Thorin, finally concentrating on him, asked, “Bilbo … is everything alright? You look pale.”

So he only made a noncommittal noise and wiggled his head, neither yes nor no, reaching for the door. But before he could open it, he felt Thorin’s hand on his shoulder. “Bilbo, what …?”

Jerking his shoulder out of Thorin’s grip, Bilbo hissed: “Let go, alright? I was …” Laughing humourlessly, he continued: “I have been such a fool, you know? Of course you know! You were here the entire time, _degrading_ yourself to support some foolish hobbits!”

“Bilbo, no! That’s not what …” the dwarf immediately drew back his hand as if burned. What had he said? How could Bilbo think …

Yet the hobbit interrupted his thoughts, turning around again, stating angrily, “I was so stupid. Always have been, always will be. Because I thought for … for such a long time that you three really were happy here, that I have truly made the best decisions for you, under the given circumstances. How foolish is it, to think that I am able to find a suitable work or even accommodation for a future king …” before pulling back to the door, ready to leave.

 

“No!” Thorin pressed his protest through the strangled noise he made, and wrapped his arms around Bilbo from behind, pulling the hobbit against his body, disregarding the hobbit’s sudden stiffness. 

What had he done?

How could he have made Bilbo feel anything else but Mahal’s gift to the dwarrows of the Blue Mountains? 

Holding him flush to his front, he buried his face in Bilbo’s hair, taking deep breaths to inhale the earth and the sunshine and the lavender … the fragrance that was uniquely Bilbo, uniquely the Shire, uniquely … home.

Terrified because of his mistake, Thorin whispered urgently: “I’m sorry, Bilbo, I’m so sorry. I am SO sorry. I should not have said that. You don’t know what this summer has meant to us, not only to me but to Fíli and Kíli as well. Please don’t go, please let me explain because you have gotten it ALL wrong. I swear. Please, Bilbo … don’t leave.”

 

The hobbit didn’t want to do this, really didn’t want to confront his foolishness right now. Yet hearing the desperation in his fiancé’s voice rendered Bilbo helpless. So he allowed Thorin to gently pull him back and guide him to his chair in front of the cold fireplace. When he sat, looking bleakly at his hands, his dwarf sank on his knees before him.

Instantly Bilbo protested the position, but Thorin ignored his objections, took his hobbit’s hands and silenced him with a kiss on his wrist. When Bilbo lost a tiny part of the tension that held him upright, Thorin tried to explain: “Bilbo, I didn’t mean that my … OUR work here in Hobbiton was degrading. We were just … we had prepared ourselves for something completely different upon our travels here, we …”

Sighing in annoyance when there was a knock on the door, Thorin asked in an angry voice: “Who is it?”

Fíli opened the door, while at the same time looking at something he held in his hand, saying: “Kíli’s armour needs fixing and I …” When he looked up he stopped his explanation immediately, opening the door, walking into the room – of course, with his brother following his trail. Taking in the picture, he asked worriedly, “What is going on here?”

In an apologetic tone Thorin explained, “I was trying to tell Bilbo what this summer has meant for us.”

Before the dwarf could continue, Kíli smiled radiantly and pulled himself on the footrest of the bed. With a beaming face, the young dwarf exclaimed in delight, “This summer was BRILLIANT! I have never had so much fun in my entire life! Can we return next season? I mean the Chubb-Bagginses said that they always have a spare room for us. At least until the twins start walking, then they might want different rooms. And Master Falco would surely need more help in the workshop. And if the hobbits do not find a smith until the next season, they would DEFINITELY need us and then we could attend ALL the parties and maybe there will be another wedding, and Missus Amanda said that the babies will be given names at the end of next spring and …”

The youngest dwarf in the room only stopped his babbling when he felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder. He looked questioningly up to Fíli, and then from him to Thorin – who still kneeled before Bilbo, looking noticeably relieved, though why, completely eluded Kíli – and finally to Bilbo who wore a tiny smile on his face.

His brother’s voice broke though the confusion when he declared in an earnest tone: “This summer was the best we have ever had ever since Erebor, Bilbo. And no matter what our uncle has said to make you believe otherwise, it is NOT true. You have taken us seriously, given us responsibilities and allowed us to rise to challenges we have never come across before. And more important than anything else: you opened your home to us, made it ours. And for that we will be forever grateful.”

“Fíli … Kíli, I …” Bilbo didn’t know what he could say, could do … instead he simply rose and hugged the two of them fiercely, stammering his thanks. Only when the boys had left, did he turn around to face Thorin again. Returning to the armchair, but not sitting down, he allowed his fiancé to pull him in, burying his face in Bilbo’s soft belly. 

Apologetically Thorin murmured into Bilbo’s clothes, “After you finding the letter, this has been the best place I have ever lived in, ever since Erebor. We travelled half of Middle-earth, I worked in the towns of men, whenever somebody was willing to pay me. But it was always, always a burden and terribly degrading because the people looked down at me, not because I am a dwarf but because I couldn’t even buy bread for my family without their coin.”

Looking up he admitted: “I won’t lie to you, Bilbo. We were scared and without hope when we came here. We had prepared ourselves for the worst, and then you came along, with your respectable waistcoat and your brown locks that shone in the sunshine and the delicious cake in your basket. And you opened a home that had never been locked, and made us feel welcome and cared for even on our first day when we were nothing but reluctant and mistrustful.

“You found us work where we were not only needed but respected. You … for the first time since the fall of Erebor, in the services of a hobbit whose judgement would mean life or death for our people … you gave us freedom. The freedom to offer our abilities, instead of our pride. The freedom to live up to the predefined expectations with dignity and our honour intact. Had we come as heirs to the throne, believe me, we would never have been able to live up to your expectations because we would have never seen you for what you really are.”

Tenderly brushing a strand of Thorin’s hair away from his face, Bilbo whispered, “But I didn’t expect anything from you. My grandfather had only told me to expect dwarrows as guests who were willing to help us. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Reaching for Bilbo’s hand, kissing it once again, Thorin explained: “You would not have liked the heirs of Durin in your home. I am grateful that we came without knowing what awaited us. Because that way we could surpass expectations we could never have dreamed about, like mending knives and forging kettles for free, just because an old lady-hobbit needed them. Or barely sleeping for days on end, so that a mother could get some sleep and her husband his work done despite two crying fauntlings.

“You don’t know what precious gifts you have given us by simply allowing us to see all of you without the prejudice and judgement of the royal blood. And believe me, Bilbo, dwarrows are plenty judgemental.” Thorin smiled up at his lover, nuzzling his sensitive sides with his nose, so that Bilbo was forced to laugh and pull back.

With a crooked smile the hobbit decided, “You still have a lot to learn. No husband of mine will ever be defeated by vegetables. You have a lot to work on until our wedding day.”

Laughing at the challenge, Thorin stood up, lifted one hand and promised, “I swear to you, Bilbo Baggins, on the day of our wedding I will serve you cucumber salad of my own making.” Looking down at his hobbit, mirth shining in his eyes, the dwarf asked, “Satisfied?”

Entering his dwarf’s personal space after he had risen, Bilbo closed his arms around Thorin’s middle and whispered in his chest, “Yes … satisfied!”

Exhaling in relief, Thorin pulled Bilbo even closer and whispered, “You must never, EVER think that you are anything but the best thing that has ever happened to us, Bilbo Baggins. And I am willing to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

Hugging his fiancé with all his strength, Bilbo buried his face in his dwarf’s chest. He was not entirely sure if Thorin had planned to say these things in Westron. He had heard this tone of voice before, but usually only when he and Thorin were engaged in a more intimate contact. Yet – whether he could understand the words or not – he felt a pleasantly warm feeling expanding in his chest, dispelling the last of the weight he had felt there before.

Maybe … just maybe … there could be more to their relationship, to their _life,_ than easy fun and a contract.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

On the last day of the harvesting week, Dís decided that the first caravan would leave in two days’ time. Nearly all the wagons that had come from the Blue Mountains were already full, and the sooner they would get there, the sooner they could return. The Durins who had arrived in Hobbiton first, would accompany the very last caravan, together with their hobbit. That would give Bilbo enough time to prepare everything for his departure.

When the lady-dwarf announced these plans, Bilbo interrupted her, appalled, “Of course you will leave in five days at the earliest. It would be a terrible scandal otherwise.”

When the princess looked at the hobbit, he just shook his head. Aghast by the mere thought he said, “Well you can’t leave before that. That would be terribly rude, and entirely disrespectful to the Green Lady. You can’t benefit from her gifts without saying your thanks for them.”

“What … what do you mean?” Dís seemed utterly confused by Bilbo’s explanation.

Looking questioningly at the other dwarrows, who carried looks similar to Dís’s, Bilbo heaved an exasperated sigh and explained in a slow tone, as if talking to children, “The Lady Yavanna has blessed us with her gifts, the fruits of the earth, therefore we are bound to say our thanks. To share what she has given to us so generously, we come together and sing her praise.” 

Baffled that his dwarrows didn’t know such a basic thing, he asked, “How can you not know something like that? No wonder you can’t improve your farming, when you don’t respect the god who blesses it.”

“So how do we do this? Should we create offerings? Or prepare sacrifices?” the princess looked at Balin for guidance. Never before had she worried about appeasing any other god than Mahal. They knew he was Yavanna’s husband and the creator of the dwarrows, yet his wife had never played an important role in their culture.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes the hobbit decided, “Oh believe me, my Lady Dís, the sacrifice will come all on his own. All you have to do is show up at the big meadow, and everything will turn out fine …”

Finally realizing what Bilbo had hinted all along, Fíli and Kíli suddenly beamed, overjoyed. When the other dwarrows looked at them they explained, “Awesome! Party time! Do you think that we will be allowed to babysit the fauntlings, Bilbo?”

Groaning in a low voice, Thorin tried to hide his face in his hands, remembering far too well how Bag End had buzzed in the two days prior to the Underhills’ wedding. And now, with fourteen dwarrows living here, it would not be any better, he was sure of it. Because Bag End still was the smial closest to the Party Meadow.

But Bilbo only laughed when the male members of the Durin line finally seemed to get what this was all about.

Honestly … harvesting without a harvest festival … THAT would REALLY not do!

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

 

 


	50. Party Preperations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Utter and absolute Chaos ... and a lot of flowers.

It.

Was.

Chaos.

Just as Thorin had feared.

But it was orderly chaos and – as before – Bilbo seemed to thrive in it. He had found occupations for all of his guests, where they could help the most.

The little Missus Underhill was allowed to ‘borrow’ Bombur, because Rose was terribly worried that her cakes would not be good enough for the feast. As a married woman, she had a certain reputation to uphold, and when she had shared her worries with Thorin – over him sharpening her kitchen-knives – he had told Bilbo about it and the hobbit had asked Bombur if he would be inclined to help her.

The little lady-hobbit was overwhelmed by the offer and hugged both Bombur and Bilbo fiercely, when they arrived at her doorstep.

Oin and Gloin stood by Dís’s side again. The lady-dwarf had taken it upon herself to organize the setup of the benches and tables, the offering-logs and the decoration. She was swift and kind, but demanding and terribly efficient. Never before had the meadow under the Party Tree been decorated so fast, so beautifully. The second day of setup was spent by all the helpers creating paper lanterns to illuminate the night of the festivity.

Bifur and Bofur found themselves back in town hall, this time with far more mothers at their side. At least in the beginning, because once the lady-hobbits were sure that their fauntlings were taken care of, they returned to their smials one by one to bake or cook or prepare decoration.

Every child had brought his colouring utilities with them and within an hour of the first day, a wide roll of cloth was nailed to the floor, so the children could create a banner for the party. And while the dwarrows were well aware that there was a piece of fabric hidden under the folding at the end, they didn’t say anything. They just helped with unwrapping crayons, finding enough water for the colours, and kept the youngest fauntlings from eating their pencils when they all tried to create a >Thank you< in tall letters.

Dori, Nori and Ori were still responsible for the caravan and took care that everything was stored away safely and secured. That however, took a considerably more time than expected, because every few minutes they were asked if one of them could carry this bowl of fruits to the Old Tooks smial, a bag of flour to the smial of the Proudfoot’s, and Bilbo needed these eggs as soon as possible, you are such a great help, thank you very much!

Fíli and Kíli, in contrast to the preparations for the weeding, had been expected at the smial of the Chubb-Bagginses, because Amanda needed them to care for the fauntlings while she was cooking to the best of her abilities. Every long-term resident of Bag End was completely in tune with that plan. They had been invited to the woodworker’s smial for dinner several times over the summer and had learned to appreciate Amanda’s cooking very much.

That left Thorin, Dwalin and Balin free to work … well not exactly with, but FOR Bilbo. In preparation of the harvest festival, their hobbit became pretty demanding. And after being at the receiving end of his disappointed glare when one of them had not been in time with his task to peel the apples or mash the berries, they redoubled their efforts, because none of them wanted to disappoint him, after everything he had done for them, when HE was finally the one asking for something.

With all the other hobbits using Bag End once more as the central place to prepare the flowers, the cakes and a big part of the decoration, every inhabitant was glad when the sun had finally sunk and they could fall into their beds face-first. Even the elves were – respectfully but surely – used for the planning by Dís.

Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen and Estel didn’t seem to think anything of it and while the twins took care of the hunting for some additional roast for the festivity, Arwen and Estel proved themselves to be really swift in their preparation of flower festoons. They didn’t even seem to mind the demanding tone that Dís usually used when talking to her crew. Instead they shared a smile and made a habit of presenting every girl who came to pick up their goods with a special little flower from their pile.

At the day of the harvest festival Bilbo rose at sunrise. He tiptoed into his bathing chamber and poured himself a relaxing bath with lavender soap and scented oils. Today would be long and … well, entertaining, that was sure. He undid his braids and carefully secured the beads Thorin had presented him with, determined to ask Thorin if he would plait them back in, once his hair was dry.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Bilbo noticed that his hair had grown considerably over the summer. Usually he got himself a haircut every four to six weeks, especially when it was so hot. Now his strands were nearly twice as long as they used to be, and tickled his neckline. But it was easier to braid this way and somehow, this has come to be more important for Bilbo than his usual style.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When Thorin arrived in the kitchen, he smelled like Bilbo’s favourite bathing oil and his hair was wet as well. Estimating that sooner or later all the dwarrows wanted to use the bathroom, he had occupied it as soon as his fiancé had left. He had needed considerably more time than Bilbo, because after this week his hair had been a tangled mess, since he simply hadn’t bothered to give it the proper care, in favour of eating or sleeping.

Thorin felt his heart swell when Bilbo turned from the stove and stepped up to him, brushing his fingers gently through his wet strands, smiling up at him. The hobbit opened his left hand, presenting his beads and asked, “Will you redo them? I will repay you by doing yours as soon as your hair is dry.”

Touching their foreheads the dwarf could only nod, hoping that his present for the party would please Bilbo. He was well aware that hobbits usually … well ALWAYS used flowers as decorations for their head and clothes. But he was not good at growing flowers, so he had used his free time during harvesting week, to come up with an adornment for Bilbo. It had seemed like a brilliant idea when he had made it, but now he was not so sure if his fiancé would like it. It WAS nothing but leather and metal in the end, nothing living, colourful or gaudy.

 

For the first time in a week his sister appeared to share first breakfast with them. She explained that she had too much to do, to stay in bed all morning.

Dwalin seemed noticeably disappointed when he entered the kitchen, quickly hiding a flower behind his back, while sitting at the end of the table, facing her. Thorin smiled when Dís nudged his friend under the table and revealed, “I would still like to carry the blossom in my hair, even though you didn’t hide it in a napkin beforehand.”

THAT made his cherished friend stammer, heat rising in his face. First he looked at Thorin, then at Bilbo for help, but when both of them ignored him on purpose, he finally gave in and offered the white rose he had cut from the hobbit’s garden. Unable to find the right words, he just held it out to Dís, not even daring to meet her eyes.

Yet his sister – ever the graceful princess – accepted the present with a kind smile, deciding, “Well, I have to say that is the most beautiful blossom you have chosen for me all week.”

“You knew?” Dwalin’s head shot up. “But Bilbo said if he chose the first flower, you wouldn’t know that the others came from me …”

Smiling secretly, the hobbit clarified, “Actually, I said, ‘You can choose one for her tomorrow and still pretend it came from me’.”

Admitting defeat the dwarven warrior asked in a low tone, “Since when have you known that they didn’t come from Bilbo?”

Smiling when she secured the blossom in the first braid that started right over her eyes, the princess said, “When you first chose a rose, instead of one of the flowers from Bilbo’s windowsill.”

Confused Dwalin remembered, “But I chose roses from the second day on …”

“I know …”

Terribly embarrassed that his affections had been so noticeable, Dwalin concentrated on his plate, not looking up for the entire breakfast. He didn’t speak to any of them, but didn’t pull his leg back either, when Dís stretched hers to touch their shanks under the table.

 

After a little while it became obvious that no other guest of Bag End would join them for first breakfast. So when Bilbo dragged his hand through Thorin’s wet strands to spread them out and make them dry faster, Dís felt safe enough to ask in a low voice, “Why did you cut your braids, Thorin?”

She had suspected it before, but Bilbo’s talent to weave hair had hidden the short strands fairly well, if not perfectly. Now, however, with his hair open and unbraided, the shorter wisps of hair were quite obvious.

Her brother reacted as if he had been slapped, but Bilbo instantly took hold of his hand, squeezing it supportively.

 

Thorin had dreaded this question and had wondered why it hadn’t been asked sooner. He was aware how sophisticatedly Bilbo could weave his hair, but to think that he would be able to hide it entirely was … well, that hope had always been in vain. Yet his sister had shown the dignity only to ask after his shame had become impossible to ignore. Something he had not thought about, when leaving his hair unbraided after the bath.

Drawing strength from his fiancé’s grip, Thorin started, “Well I did something …,” only to be interrupted quite forcefully by the voice of his hobbit.

“Actually, Dís, **I** did something really stupid and unforgivable, and Thorin reacted to it. It should not have happened and we talked about it and I apologized. But there is no way to make his hair grow back any faster, so I just braid it around the lost strands.”

Thorin could hardly breathe through this explanation. What had he done to be blessed with such an extraordinary partner? Nothing was worse for a dwarf than losing his honour and dignity and therefore cutting off his hair. His people had never done it lightly and neither had he. He had been desperate that day when Bilbo had caught him with his pants down – quite literally! Yet his fiancé pretended to be the guilty party.

So when his sister looked at him for confirmation, he couldn’t bring himself to let Bilbo take the blame for this. HE had been the one to allow this blasted hobbit’s touch. HE had been the one coming all over the floor of his forge, cheating his husband.

So when Dís’s steel-blue eyes flashed in his direction, he shook his head marginally, still holding on to Bilbo’s fingers that covered his hand.

Dís’s answer showed that she had understood his message when she nodded her head most gracefully. “Thank you, Master Baggins. I am sure that whatever has happened now lies behind you. I’m grateful for your explanation.” After that she rose from the table elegantly, making a small gesture for Dwalin to accompany her. The warrior followed her like an obedient little dwarfling. Even at this barely noticeable summoning.

Bilbo just called after them to be back at Bag End at around two, so that they had enough time to get ready for the party.

As soon as they were sitting alone in the kitchen, Bilbo put away the dirty dishes and fetched his comb to braid Thorin’s hair again, although it was still wet. Obviously he was upset about the confrontation. His fingers were shakings lightly, and it took him twice as long to secure the end of Thorin’s braids properly.

When he was finished, ready to pull back, Thorin reached for him and kissed his hands, stating in a whisper, “It was not your fault, Bilbo. Never has been.”

But his fiancé shook his head. “Yes, it was! Had I believed you in the first place, none of this would have been necessary,” And with that he pulling back to wash his dishes.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

As expected, all inhabitants of Bag End returned mid-afternoon. Bilbo had found, bought and borrowed white shirts for every member of his household and when they all looked at him in puzzlement, the hobbit only rolled his eyes at them and explained, “This festivity is about the gifts of the earth. We decorate ourselves with flowers and vines. Nothing shows off these garments better than plain clothing underneath.”

So he shut his dwarrows up quite forcefully when they started laughing at Bombur who stood in the back-gardens around three, his massive hair decorated with numerous tiny yellow roses. Rose was truly gifted at adorning someone’s hair with the right blossoms, because in Bilbo’s mind the massive dwarf looked lovely. Yet the other dwarrows’ laughing made him so self-conscious that he barely entered the smial.

Only after Bilbo reprimanded them, threatening them with messing up their hair so that they would be the laughing stock of the Shire, they pulled back and apologized. Obviously they were a little uneasy by the hobbit’s threats.

Therefore, Oin and Gloin were quite reluctant to allow him to decorate their hair. The hobbit had chosen deep-red flowers for Oin because they made a nice contrast to his grey hair, and light yellow blossoms for Gloin that made his dark-red hair shine all the more beautifully in the afternoon sun.

When Bilbo was finished with the first two dwarves, Fíli and Kíli returned, their hair already braided anew and decorated with delicate blossoms, carrying two sleeping fauntlings in their arms. Instantly they were the centre of attention, because until now, they have never brought Amanda and Falco’s offspring with them. The babies were admired and smiled at and if it would have been possible, every last dwarf would have picked them up for a chance to hold and cuddle them.

But the young Durins only allowed a few minutes of swooning, before retreating to their rooms for an hour of rest. When closing the door after them helpfully, Bilbo saw the boys carefully arranging their long strands on the pillows with the fauntlings between them. Obviously they cherished the blossoms Amanda had braided into their hair and didn’t want to crinkle them.

That left Dori, Nori and Ori unattended. It was clear that the three brothers didn’t really get the whole ‘send a message with flowers’, even when explained several times. Only Ori seemed familiar with the concept after the initial explanation.

When Bilbo started to braid tiny, white flowers that complemented Ori’s brown hair quite nicely, the cheeks of the youngest dwarf in his house flamed up. As soon as Nori realized his youngest brother’s unease, he looked apprehensively from Bilbo to Ori and back again, trying to figure out what had embarrassed his little brother.

When both of them ignored him, Nori asked warily, “What is wrong, Ori? Is Master Baggins hurting you?”

While the youngest dwarf avoided his brother’s gaze, Bilbo clarified kindly, “When it’s your turn you will find that I am very experienced with braiding hair. So don’t worry, Master Nori, I am not harming your brother.”

For the hobbit obviously the discussion was at an end at that point, but now Ori was the one to ask in a low whisper, “Did you chose the baby’s breath on purpose, Master Baggins?”

When Bilbo chuckled lowly, confirming the young one’s suspicion, the dwarf hid his face again, only to be calmed by the hobbit’s tender hands caressing his head when he was finished. “Yes, Master … I mean Ori. I could not think of a blossom that would suit you better. Now, Master Nori, it’s your turn. And you can decide for yourself if my braiding technique is harmful.”

Still unsure if the hobbit would be able to recreate his complicated braids, Nori took the appointed position on the garden bench and allowed Bilbo to unwind his braids. It had taken the new dwarrows some time to get used to hobbits who braided each other’s hair without a second thought or a blood relationship. But their struggles against such an untypically intimate act had ceased when they realized that EVERYBODY would wear flowers in their hair and they were simply unable to braid them in by themselves.

Nori touched the wide-petalled woodbine blossoms, checking in a small hand-held mirror what Bilbo was doing. He was worried that he would look like their king's jester when the hobbit was done, but instead of accenting the peaks of his hair, Bilbo fitted only a few flowers in the sides, decorating them beautifully.

Ori asked with a smile, watching the process with attentive eyes, “You are using woodbine for my brother, because he always takes care of us.”

Bilbo just smiled, “You read the book about the language of flowers from my library, didn’t you, Ori?” When the young dwarf nodded the hobbit continued, “It is not easy to find the right blossoms for each and every one of you, but I thought that a flower that stands for fraternal love would be best for Master Nori. I have never seen anybody who is as protective of his siblings as he is.”

Finally it was Dori’s turn. The eldest brother had worked in the kitchen until the very last minute, making sure that the pastries and cakes were all safely stored for an easy transport to the Party Meadow.

When he took his place on the bench he just smiled up at Bilbo, admiring the calycanthus flowers that sat in a shallow basin in front of him. With swift fingers, the hobbit undid his artful braids and wound the beautiful silver hair around the deep-red blossoms.

When Bilbo looked at Ori expectantly, the youngest dwarf tilted his head, chewing at his bottom lip. Finally he shook his head and admitted, “I can’t identify the flower. I am sorry.”

Yet Bilbo only smiled and explained, “It’s calycanthus, a rare breed in the Shire, but my neighbour Hamfast Gamgee has a stock at the edge of his small garden pond. He knows Master Dori by now, having been on the receiving end of his supportive nature, when your brother had asked if he could bring something from the marketplace for him.”

Instantly Ori’s face lit up and he nodded enthusiastically. “Yes … yes, now I remember. It’s in the appendix for ‘non-native’ flowers. I am surprised that your neighbour has been able to cultivate it. It stands for …,” realizing the meaning Ori tenderly hugged his brother, who had listened to their conversation silently, revealing in a loving voice, “The calycanthus stands for benevolence. You could not have chosen better for our brother.”

With a grateful smile Bilbo accepted the compliment and ushered the three dwarrows into his home, changing into the appropriate clothes for the harvesting festival. As usual, only Nori stayed behind. Bilbo was picking up leftover blossoms and put away stems that had remained behind and said in a somewhat amused voice, “You have to ask, Master Nori. I won’t tell you otherwise.”

Slightly irritated, because there were so many things about this simple hobbit that evaded his perception, the dwarf let out a frustrated breath. But after a few moments he yielded and asked, “Alright, you win: What do the flowers in my little brother’s hair stand for, Master Baggins?”

Putting away one water-basin, realigning another that was filled with small, white blossoms, Bilbo explained, “Baby’s breath stands for innocence and a pure heart. Now would you please peek inside and find out if Dwalin and Dís are here? They are up next.”

Nori left without another word. Once again the hobbit had taken him by surprise. He knew that Bilbo liked his little brother, that he treated him with care and more friendliness than his own people. But the knowledge that spoke from the choice of flowers was more than anything Nori could have expected. Smiling at his brother, who showed the aforementioned book to Dori, he passed the study and asked his princess and Dwalin – who had just entered the smial with a whole bunch of lavender-stems in his hand – to join Bilbo in the garden.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Unbeknown to the said princess, Bilbo braided the lavender the warrior had brought at the hobbit’s request into her rich locks, and afterwards even decorated Dwalin’s beard and back hair with a few delicate blossoms of the same stems. When Ori interrupted him, asking for directions for a part of the food that was currently being picked up, the young dwarf stared for a moment, but when Bilbo just shook his head slightly, left without commenting on Bilbo’s choice of flowers.

When Thorin entered the garden not long after Ori, sitting down next to his friend, he patiently waited until Bilbo was ready for him. He too refrained from asking the meaning of the lavender in his sister’s and friend’s hair. He knew his fiancé too well to allow Dís and Balin to become aware of the potential message his hobbit was braiding into their hair.

But as soon as they had left for the Party Meadow, Dís for the first time ever since her arrival in the Shire, in a breath-taking white linen dress, he looked at Bilbo, eager for an explanation.

Yet his lover feigned ignorance, brushing through Thorin’s once more unravelled tresses, pulling the basin with the twenty-six dog roses closer. Hamfast always gave him two extra because he knew of Bilbo’s desire to use only the most perfect flowers for his lover. Yet his dwarf would not be ignored.

In a deep growl Thorin asked, “What do they mean, Bilbo? Or do you want me to ask every hobbit at the festival, with the two of them close by?”

Afraid that his plan to present the two dwarrows as a pair might fail because of Thorin’s threat, Bilbo finally gave in. “Alright, lavender stands for love and devotion. And if you tell them, you can sleep on the couch tonight, Mister!”

After voicing the threat, the hobbit looked at his dwarf questioningly and asked in a hesitant voice, “It suits them, don’t you think?”

Taking his fiancé’s hand, breathing the tenderest kiss on his lover’s wrist, Thorin assured him in a low voice, “It could not be more perfect, Bilbo.”

With a relieved smile Bilbo counted the blossoms in Thorin’s hair and closed the braids with his own beads, when he was sure that the twelve flowers were secured. He sprinkled a little salted water over them, to keep the blossoms from slipping out.

When he was finished he allowed Thorin to do his own hair. It was a little harder for the dwarf to place twelve blossoms in Bilbo’s short hair, but he managed to do so quite beautifully. His hobbit looked beautiful, his face framed by the delicate blossoms, making his eyes shine even more.

Bilbo was ready to rise from the bench, about to change his clothes, when Thorin held him back, presenting a misshapen parcel. The dwarf was close to putting it away again, Bilbo looked so lovely with the white flowers in his hair. But now that the hobbit had seen it, he couldn’t pull back any more.

When he smiled at his lover encouragingly, Bilbo opened the present excitedly. He revealed a soft band of brown leather, nearly the same colour as his hair; short strands of even more leather hung down from it and at first Bilbo couldn’t make anything of the garment. Only when Thorin explained that it was supposed to be a headband, the hobbit picked it up and offered it to the dwarf so that he would help him to put it on.

Thorin parted Bilbo’s hair, so that the binding could be hidden underneath, and arranged it so that the extensions would frame his hobbit’s face but not annoy him. It turned out that he had gotten the measurements quite right, because the leather bands accentuated Bilbo’s braids quite nicely, even when they just contained plain metal decorations.

Yet when Thorin watched his fiancé, admiring his decoration in the small hand-held mirror he had provided for his dwarrows, he couldn’t help but smile. Bilbo gazed at the present with open admiration, gently touching the tiny metal flowers Thorin had forged for him, that seemed so realistic, as if they had just been plucked from the meadow. Only their colouring revealed them as artificial.

There were several tiny blossoms framing his face, with a metal teardrop at the end of each band, smoothed so that it would not irritate Bilbo’s skin. Delicate petals spread over the leather-band that lay on his forehead, crowning Bilbo with artificial flowers. It was no colourful floral wreath, but the hobbit could not have adored it any more if it were. His fiancé has made it for him and he would be able to wear it again and again.

Rising from the bench, hugging a still slightly unsure Thorin strongly, Bilbo whispered, “This is the most beautiful decoration I have ever received. Thank you so much, lover. I will be proud to wear it from now on. And you have recreated the dog roses more beautifully than Hamfast could have grown them.”

And even though Thorin wished that he had gems and jewels to embellish his hobbit with them, he was well aware that, while wearing it for Thorin’s sake, Bilbo would not feel comfortable with precious decoration. He was far too modest for that. Yet his lover seemed more than enchanted by his present and that alone made his week’s work worth it.

Bilbo held his head high, as if Thorin had decorated him with the most precious crown. Looking at each and every dwarf, judging whether they wore suitable garments for the festivity, he offered baskets or casseroles for them to carry to the Party Meadow. Stealing a kiss from his lover, he closed his round, green door, following the trail of his dwarrows, because the festival was about to begin.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	51. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of our beloved dwarrows are going to get drugged in this chapter. It will be very ... exciting. You have been warned.

The Party Meadow looked breathtaking. Instead of the usual wooden benches, Dís had opted for hayballs to sit upon; some of them were even covered by carpets and quilts to keep the hay from pricking a sensible hobbit’s backside.

Set aside from the dance area was a wide part of the meadow covered by a hay-ball labyrinth that had been created for the entertainment of the children. True, most fauntlings could look over the walls, but climbing over and crawling inbetween them was as much fun as running through it.

The buffet tables were sagging under the heaps of the most delicious food, and the tables that held the mugs for ale and wine nearly bent in the middle. Everybody, especially the dwarrows were welcomed with great cheers and hugs and guided towards the tables where they could leave the food they had brought along, and afterwards were equipped with a mug and a plate to fill with appetizers.

The entire company found a place around one long table, laughing and joking about the flowery decoration that made them all look more like hobbits than dwarrows. At least until the children rushed in with their ‘last-minute-finished’ banner.

The lot of them dragged the wide piece of cloth forward on their own, only a few little ones needed the support of their mothers. Finally, when the banner was fixed between two poles, and was let down, cheers erupted from all around the dwarrows table. The piece of cloth read:

 

 

 

Both dwarrows were too shocked to react to the incredible gift. Never before had anybody done something like that for them. But when the little Miss Lily came forward, pulling a flower-necklace first over Bifur’s and then over Bofur’s head, they followed the girl through the crowd back to the banner and hugged each and every child they had taken care of over the last few days. Even countless mothers embraced them, thanking them once again for entertaining their children all through harvesting week.

The dwarrows of the Blue Mountains watched the scene, beaming with joy on behalf of their friends. Nobody had the heart to tell the children or the mothers that they had spelled the names wrong. It didn’t matter anyway. Everything was perfect just the way it was and they wouldn’t want to spoil it for anything.

All of the dwarrows had lived through loss and deprivation after they had lost Erebor. But they were well aware that mining had always been the second choice for Bifur and Bofur. Their love for children, creating the most beautiful toys for them, was something these dwarrows only indulged in the privacy of their own quarters nowadays. But here, in the Shire, with Bilbo’s help, they had become what they had always wanted to be: toymakers and caretakers for the youngest.

After a long time, when every last child and mother had been thanked and hugged, they returned to the table, only to be toasted and praised by their friends. Though the wagons would be full to the brim, it was obvious that this banner WOULD find a place somewhere inbetween the food. It was simply too valuable to be left behind.

When everybody was back at their seats, Bilbo rose and went into an open tent, next to the table where ale and the wine was served. There, as usual, was the ‘special punch’. Its recipe was a secret closely guarded by the wise old Rosaly Sackville who – despite her 92 years – still stood beside the barrels, supervising its proper handling.

“Good afternoon, Missus Sackville, might I coax a few mugs of your delicious punch from you on this beautiful day?” Bilbo asked with a respectful bow to the elderly lady.

Charmed by the flawless manners, she stepped forward and pinched Bilbo’s cheek. She had always done that, still did that to all the young fauntlings of the Shire, even when they were not fauntlings any longer. Yet despite her amused smile, she censured him, “Fourteen mugs are hardly ‘a few’, or do you plan on serving only a part of your dwarrows with my fine punch?”

Laughing at the comment Bilbo bent his head agreeably, “Well if you would be so generous, I would be glad if all of my friends could taste your delicious punch.”

With a smile the white-haired lady nudged her granddaughter who served the mixture, and after a little while, when each and every mug was decorated with a blue-petalled flower, Bilbo carried a heavy tray towards his table. This special brew was only served during the harvest festival, because the special flowers that were needed for its effect only grew for a very narrow timeframe in the Shire. Not even Hamfast Gamgee – by far the best gardener around – had had any luck in cultivating them.

The drink that the oldest member of the Sackville clan created from it, was sweet and spicy and not too strong. But it gave you a pleasant buzz after only two mugs. Nearly every hobbit enjoyed it during the harvest festival, sometimes even more when he could persuade the lady who made it.

But all of them took good care to keep the children away from it. It was too sweet and smelled too alluring for the little ones not to like it. That was what the flowers were for. Although you could eat them, they were usually kept at the bottom of the mugs, so that everybody knew the ‘spiked’ drinks from the other ones. Every year a group of hobbit tweens tried to nick a few cups, and every year their attempts were quashed rather forcefully by their elders. Alcohol would only make them sick but the ‘special punch’ made them hyperactive and the effects usually didn’t wear off before the early morning hours. Nobody wanted to do that to the guests or the parents who had to deal with the intoxicated youngsters.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Thorin enjoyed the party tremendously. Not only because hobbits really knew how to celebrate, but because the offering table with a selection of the fruits and corn, next to the buffet table and the dance area, looked truly amazing. Everything was light and shining, the hayballs reflected the sunlight and made the Party Meadow look as if it was covered with spun gold. It was even better than the wedding.

He even enjoyed three mugs of the strange punch Bilbo had introduced them to. Most of the dwarrows didn’t like it that much, preferring the stronger ale over the sweet mixture, but his nephews as well as his sister and Dwalin seemed to enjoy it tremendously, although Thorin suspected that Dwalin only pretended to like it, in order to please his sister. Well, it was a party; everybody should take pleasure in it, even his best friend.

When the cake was served, after the majority of the main meal was gone, Dís found a strange looking nut in her piece of the most decadent chocolate cake. The hobbits on the next table cheered for her and when the princess looked at their hobbit questioningly, Bilbo just shrugged his shoulders, hiding behind his drink, explaining absentmindedly, “There are two almonds in these chocolate cakes. It brings the finder good luck for the next year.”

When Dwalin was the next one to reveal an almond in his cake, Bilbo nearly choked on his drink. Thorin rubbed his back worryingly, only to see his fiancé, burying his red face in his handkerchief. He passed a look to the other dwarrows, but nobody seemed to think anything of it. Solely Fíli and Kíli gaped with open mouths, only to excuse themselves as soon as they realized that they had been seen.

 

Nori left the table not long after them and found the young princes not far from the group, hiding behind a tree, whispering to each other nervously.

“Dwalin found the other almond. You know what that means!” Kíli sounded terribly excited, practically bouncing up and down.

There was rustling of clothes and the brushing of cloth against cloth.

After a few moments, Fíli’s much calmer voice could be heard, “Of course I know. Missus Chubb-Baggins told us about the almonds when she baked the cakes. But we mustn’t tell! Mister Dwalin might or might not have feelings for mother, and mother might or might not like him, but to suspect that they will marry in a year’s time only because they found some nuts is stupid and you know it.”

Soft sighing sounded from the pair and after a while Kíli offered in a much calmer voice, “But it would be good, wouldn’t it? Mum would be happy again. Mister Dwalin is a good dwarf; honourable! He would take good care of her. She hasn’t been happy since …”

“I know Kíli … I know …” and with Fíli’s soft assurance the conversation came to an end. After a few moments, when the sounds made by the two princes changed to something a little more intimate, Nori abandoned his position and returned to the table.

He had learned enough and even though he didn’t believe in hobbit folklore, Master Baggins’s reaction has spoken for itself. He decided to find his little brother. Both Dwalin and the Lady Dís wore lavender in their hair. Lavender Bilbo had braided into it painstakingly. Maybe more was going on there than met the eye, and the hobbit was involved somehow.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When the main meal was finished, the dance floor was cleared. After a whole summer in the Shire where he had learned of the hobbits customs, Thorin couldn’t possibly refuse the numerous invitations to the dance floor. With a little amusement the dwarf realized that only married hobbit lads and lasses invited him. Whenever a tween or even a young lady-hobbit zoned in on their table, their eyes flew over the flowers in his hair and with a stutter she chose one of his friends as a dance partner. The best of it was that nobody wanted to say no to an excited hobbit that looked at him with expectant yet somehow nervous eyes.

So – one by one – his family and friends joined the crowd on the dance floor and after a satisfying meal and a strong shot of … well Thorin wouldn’t think too much of what had just burned down his throat … Bilbo pulled him along, and for several songs they jumped and circled each other, enjoying themselves tremendously.

Arriving back at their table, Thorin drowned another mug immediately and when he nearly choked on the flower garnish, Bilbo rubbed his back forcefully. He promised to return with a glass of water, when the blossom was finally expelled.

He hummed slightly to himself, as he caught sight of Dwalin and Dís vanishing behind a tent, looking at each other heatedly. He could more than empathize with them, starting to feel a little hot himself. Opening the collar of his shirt, pulling gently at the flower necklace he had been given before entering the dance, he took deep breaths to cool himself down. Surely the water Bilbo was fetching for him would help.

He could see Dori and Bombur at the buffet table, talking animatedly with a little hobbit-lady who stood behind a bowl of cookies, no doubt exchanging recipes. Nori was nowhere to be seen but Ori sat a little apart, with a book and a coal-pencil in his hand, no doubt making a sketch of the party. He had seen the young scribe sketching into his book several times over the last few days. When asked, he had told the prince that he tried to get as many impressions of the hobbits as possible while they were still in the Shire. Once they returned to the Blue Mountains Ori would lose the opportunity for ‘field studies’ as he had called it.

Thorin realized that he wouldn’t mind a picture of this joyous scene: hobbits dancing and laughing and drinking, preserved on paper for everybody to remember this day. It was such a typical scene for these folks that it hurt Thorin to think that he would have to take Bilbo away from all of this.

Surely the hobbit wouldn’t be able to leave this life behind permanently. He would follow Thorin to the Blue Mountains. Make sure that the fields were properly planted with the winter rye and maybe even spend some time with Thorin over the winter months. But after that … in spring when the Shire would be green again and the first flowers would sprout … how long would Bilbo stay in the Blue Mountains before the homesickness set in?

 

His fiancé chose this very moment to return to him, and gently brushed a lock of hair over Thorin’s shoulder, when presenting him with a pint of water. Leaning into the small gesture, the dwarf took up the tankard and drowned half the water in one go. Yet, the heat only seemed to spread in his body.

Bilbo reclaimed his place next to him and talked animatedly with Gloin, who asked about the brewer of the ale that was served. After pointing the dwarf into the right direction, he returned his attention to Thorin.

While the dwarf found himself captivated by the movement of Bilbo’s lips, the message his hobbit seemed to convey remained unnoticed by him. All of a sudden he had the desire to kiss his hobbit. He gave in to his desire after a heartbeat.

He had thought this kiss would quench his fascination, would calm him down, so that he could listen to Bilbo properly. Yet as soon as their skins touched, a heat wave spread through Thorin’s body, igniting his blood, making him close in on his hobbit, touching his face, and the initially chaste kiss turned into something deeper, more desperate and infinitely more needy.

 

It was not as if Bilbo didn’t enjoy his future husband’s ministrations. But until now these open displays of desire had solely happened in their bedroom, when they were among themselves. Now Thorin was leaning closer on the bench, leaving no room between them. His hands reached for Bilbo, holding on to his arm, burying themselves in his curls.

Only with Thorin’s hand on his head did Bilbo realize that his lover was shaking. His want was almost palpable and when the hobbit pulled back from their heated kiss, ignoring the distressed noise from his lover, to look at his dwarf, he could see more than one sign that his lover REALLY needed his attention at the moment.

His forehead was slightly sweaty and his breath came faster than usual. Even his heart was beating too fast in his chest, something Bilbo noticed after putting his hand on Thorin’s shirt to keep him at a distance, only to have the dwarf lean into the contact, trying to capture the hobbit’s lips once again. But he gave a firm push. He had every intention of satisfying the desires of his lover, but this was not a good place to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh. They were far too many eyes on them for Bilbo’s liking.

 

Thorin whimpered, downright whimpered, albeit low, when Bilbo pushed him back. Thorin sat sideways on the hay-ball, his legs slightly spread, one leg pulled under him to get closer to Bilbo. A peek at his groin assured the hobbit that this was no mere mood-swing of his lover.

Something was wrong! Thorin had never before reacted in such a way. But when Bilbo thought about his fiancé’s ingestion, trying to pinpoint his changed behaviour on too much consummation of alcohol, he drew a blank. His lover hadn’t overindulged in the consumption of ale or wine this evening.

Therefore he asked, “Thorin, what did you eat and drink today,” all the while gently caressing his lover’s face, to still the distressed noise he had pulled from him when separating them.

Leaning into the caress, closing his eyes dreamily, Thorin murmured, “The same as you, I only drank more, because after the dance I was really thirsty.”

Looking at the table, a nagging suspicion rose in Bilbo’s mind. “Thorin, lover … look at me, please.”

When his future husband looked into his eyes, Bilbo noticed them to be glassy and blown wide open. Not even during their bed sports was Thorin so beside himself. Urging his dwarf to answer his question, Bilbo demanded to know, “That’s really important, how much of the punch did you have?”

Sighing contently because of their contact and Bilbo’s undivided attention on him, Thorin leaned into his lover. Nudging the little ‘v’ between his hobbit’s neck and the shoulder softly with his nose, pressing a soft kiss onto the warm skin, the dwarf mumbled, “Four, I think, but it’s not too bad. That stuff isn’t terribly strong. Can we go now, Bilbo? I really … I would really like to make love to you right now. I’m hot and aching for you.” Reaching for his hobbit’s hand, angling it towards his groin, Thorin inched even closer towards his lover, whispering into his ear, “Come with me, Bilbo. I will make your time worthwhile, I promise.”

When Bilbo pushed Thorin back this time, his dwarf put up a little more resistance. Yet the hobbit couldn’t allow himself to give in to his lover immediately.

He knew that Dís and Dwalin had enjoyed the ‘special drink’ as well, but they were adults, so he didn’t worry about them. Fíli and Kíli were another matter entirely. He couldn’t allow them to act on their desires, not in public. So he really had but one choice: finding them and ushering them back to Bag End.

Taking his distressed lover’s face into his hands again, Bilbo demanded in a low voice, “You have to stay here, Thorin. Stay here and wait for me, don’t go anywhere or do anything. I will be back as soon as I can, then we can … I will be back and then we will take our time. I promise!” And with a swift kiss at his lover’s temple Bilbo was off, searching for his boys.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Realizing that something was wrong, Balin and Nori shared a look, gazing first towards a seemingly devastated Thorin, and then into the direction Bilbo had dashed off. As one they rose, because they had no doubt that their prince would obey his lover, at least for the moment, no matter how heartbroken he looked. Yet something was wrong, and even when they hadn’t been able to hear the whispered conversation between the couple, Bilbo’s face had said enough. Their hobbit was worried, very worried. Within moments they were on his heels.

When they reached him, Bilbo unwound himself from their arms instantly, prepared to flee, to look for Fíli and Kíli. Yet Balin stepped into his way, and Nori recaptured his shoulder. The Councillor folded his arms before his chest and demanded, “Tell us what is wrong, Master Baggins. Maybe we can help.”

“It’s nothing, really … it’s nothing. I just need to find somebody. Would you please excuse me?” And in a poorly concealed attempt, Bilbo tried to wiggle himself free from Nori’s clutch. Yet the high-ranking servants of the king would have none of that.

“Speak and we will let you go.” Nori’s posture made it clear that he would not step aside before Bilbo had revealed his intentions. With a deep sigh the hobbit folded under their combined glares, knowing these two dwarrows far too well to believe he could circumvent them.

In an urgent tone he explained, “I think that the Durins … and to a certain extent Dwalin, have drugged themselves with our punch. I knew the brewing is made with special flowers and they relax us hobbits far faster than alcohol or pipe-weed, yet to your kin they seem to have a different effect. Please, I have to find Fíli and Kíli, if they … indulge in each other, … I’m not sure that my fellow hobbits would enjoy seeing that.”

“Where is our princess?” Balin’s voice was deep and grave at the question. He realized that while a public scene might become a problem for the youngest Durins, the flawless reputation of their mother was far more important for the royal family.

Bilbo wound his fingers nervously and shook his head, “I … I don’t know. I saw her and Dwalin wandering off towards the tents where the dishes are washed.”

The two dwarrows shared a meaningful look and when Balin left towards the suggested direction, Nori finally let go of Bilbo. “I will help you search for our young princes. We will get them back to safety where nobody will frown upon them.”

Gratefully Bilbo accepted the help and continued his way along the borders of the Party Meadow, to look for his boys.

 

Nori just smiled after him, sure that he would find the boys because he was clearly wandering into the right direction, before turning around and strolling off. For the first time ever since he had come to the Shire, he COULD understand Bilbo’s motivation for helping this specific pair of dwarrows. He had seen the look the hobbit threw the youngest members of the royal family. Had seen the way he treated them and even dared to peek into their room. Everything spoke of one feeling: deep and boundless love. And THAT was a motivation Nori could very well understand.

If something like this would happen do Ori or even Dori, the dwarf would move heaven and earth to protect his siblings.

So, he started to walk around, stirring off people from the directions of the young royals and their hobbit.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The festivities were approaching their climax and very soon the bonfire would be ignited for all the hobbits of the Shire to bring their offerings. Yet Bilbo still had his boys to find, to keep them from embarrassing themselves publicly.

It seemed that he was already too late, when he discovered them, intertwined, hidden behind a big tree at the edge of the meadow. Their hands were furiously pulling at each other and their lips seemed to be sealed together.

Kíli was whimpering urgently into his brother’s mouth, and Fíli’s hand hidden between their bodies was working frantically. Bilbo didn’t want to think too much on what.

Realizing that things were getting out of hand pretty fast, the hobbit prepared himself to step between the lovers. But their anxious noises made it obvious that they were not to be separated at the moment.

Sighing and cursing his fate, because nobody should witness such a scene, Bilbo returned to the nearest table, stealing a jug of water that had been left behind unattended, most likely in preparation to wet dry throats after its owner had returned from the dance floor. Well, his fellow hobbit would have to get himself another jug.

Avoiding looking at the young dwarves, instead gazing thoughtfully towards the night-sky, Bilbo tried to block out the hoarse noises that travelled through the warm air, from the tree that hid Fíli and Kíli’s sturdy frames. When he heard barely swallowed shouts, dampened by cloth or skin or whatever else had been close to the respective mouths to press into, he counted to thirty. After that he stepped around the tree and called for them.

While they definitely had reached their peaks, neither Fíli nor Kíli seemed willing to let go of each other. Bilbo tried to shake them apart, but still they wouldn’t budge. Looking at the jug in his hand regretfully he lifted it, and poured it directly over their heads.

Breaking apart stuttering and coughing, both dwarrows looked at him, slightly hurt as if pained to be separated. Only the hobbit’s disapproving glare made them aware of their situation. Tugging at their clothes to regain the last shreds of dignity, they stammered, “Bilbo I … we …”

“We didn’t …,” unable to find a suitable excuse in their drug-hazed minds.

Bilbo pulled at their wet shirts. “You will return to Bag End immediately! Go to your room and DON’T leave it until tomorrow. Do you understand me? I don’t want to see you again tonight. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, Mister Baggins.” Both looked like drowned rats, when they shook their wet hair, reaching tentatively for each other’s hands, as if they expected Bilbo to berate them for that too. Only when he glared at them, pointedly ignoring the contact, did they spin around and scurry off towards Bag End.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	52. Drugged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is as unimportant to the story line as can be. Just lots and lots of smut.

One problem was solved; the respectability of his boys remained upheld. With both of them rushing off towards Bag End, Bilbo could concentrate on the next task: taking care of his fiancé.

Hoping that Balin or Nori would find the princess and her warrior, Bilbo returned to their table, ready to deal with Thorin, apologizing for having abandoned him. He shivered slightly when he remembered the despairing look in his fiancé’s eyes, after he had pushed him away. But there was no way Bilbo could have stayed with him, while his boys were somewhere out there, for anybody to find and judge.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

After Bilbo had left him Thorin felt truly miserable. His skin seemed too small for his body, he felt hot and feverish and wished he could remove all the decorations and flowers and, most of all, his shirt for his skin to be soothed by the soft evening breeze. But more than anything else, he wished that Bilbo was still with him. Touching his lover, kissing him had dissolved his discomfort, velvet lips had appeased his desires and gentle hands had cooled his burning skin.

Thorin knew that his suggestion had been more than audacious. Still he hadn’t been able to hold it back. His desire to be with his hobbit had overwhelming, and eradicated all thoughts of propriety and respectability. A part of him was surprised that Bilbo hadn’t slapped him, after having embarrassed the both of them so publicly. His hobbit had made his stance towards public claiming pretty clear, yet Thorin had ignored it in favour of touching and tasting him.

Pushing these thoughts aside, Thorin rose from his seat. He could be strong and ignore his longings. He had been trained to be the future king for Mahal’s sake! He should be able to control his urges, no matter how pressing they were. Fighting his way to his feet, he wavered slightly, determined to get himself another drink. He could act unswayed!

Ignoring the questioning looks of his people, he left them and walked into the general direction of the table where the drinks were served. A shot would do him tons of good. He had overheard Bombur that there was moonshine served, surely alcohol would burn down his yearnings.

As soon as he had reached the counter, holding on to it and adjusting himself as discreetly as possible, so as to not make a fool of himself, he was about to gather a small cup filled with a very dubious looking liquid, when he felt a small hand on his arm.

“Thorin, I said stay at the table. For heaven’s sake …” yet Bilbo couldn’t continue his scolding, because as soon as he had touched Thorin, the dwarf pulled him in, burying his face in Bilbo’s locks, shivering all over.

Bilbo was … he was here and he was … he smelled like the earth and sunshine and even faintly of the lavender soap he had used this morning. For Thorin, his hobbit smelled like heaven, and he swayed to stay on his feet and not sink into the overwhelming scent. Small yet strong arms hugged him close and all Thorin could do was bite his lips to keep at bay the moans, which threatened to escape, having his lover finally so close.

One single thought dominated his entire being: to be close to Bilbo, attached to him and to never, EVER in his entire lifetime, be separated from him again. His brain was a fuzzy mess of unrelated thoughts. Why had his hobbit left him? Would he hurt his lover if he pressed himself any closer? What could he do to persuade Bilbo to leave the festivities behind? How long was the walk to Bag End? Would they draw a lot of attention if they kissed each other now? Would the walk to the river bend, where they first had made love for the very first time, be too far?

When Bilbo stroked his lower back in a soothing manner, Thorin pulled himself even closer to his hobbit and groaned when their pelvises touched. He needed this! Needed Bilbo, more than the air that he breathed. He would willingly sink to his knees and beg if that would increase his chances of his hobbit leaving this party with him. But Bilbo holding him close scattered these thoughts, before he could act on them.

His determined little hobbit pulled Thorin with him, and he could only follow helplessly. Yet the farther their bodies moved apart, the more uneasy he felt. The burning in his body returned, just like the overwhelming desire to be with Bilbo this very moment. Together they stumbled towards the borders of the Party Meadow, and only when there were several feet of darkness between them and the closest guest did Bilbo stop.

 

“Bilbo, please …” Thorin didn’t even know what he was begging for. To move on, or to stay here? For Bilbo to come closer, or for the hobbit to pull him along?

Bilbo stirred him towards one of the big trees that surrounded the party area, and Thorin crowded his hobbit against the tree and covered his small body with his own, as soon as they were out of sight. When he lowered his face, to get closer once again, he was surprised when his fiancé met him halfway. All doubts and concerns about being in a public place fled his mind. Feverishly he kissed Bilbo and hungrily traced his lover’s lips with the tip of his tongue, until those enticing lips parted and he could claim his hobbit’s mouth.

Thorin whimpered when his fiancé wormed his hand between their bodies and covered his groin area. He was so hot and more than ready for Bilbo to take him, yet his lover’s hand was nearly more than he could bear on his overheated skin. He pulled back reluctantly and pleaded in a low voice, “It hurts, Bilbo. I want you so much, but it hurts!”

Moving his lower body, unsure if it was into Bilbo’s touch or away from him, because neither seemed a reasonable possibility at the moment, he moaned, “Please Bilbo … I can’t bear this.”

When his hobbit freed his throbbing flesh, Thorin pulled his hands away from his lover and reached for the bark of the tree. His fingertips dug into the bark, so as not to lose his footing under the overwhelming sensations that spread through him.

 

He rubbed his nose against Bilbo’s hair frantically, when his lover whispered into his ear, “I will help you. I’m sorry that this is happening to you, my sweet, but I will take care of it. I promise.”

In the voice of his lover was so much honest regret that Thorin looked at him, forcefully pushing away the sensations of living fire coursing through his veins. “You did nothing wrong, Bilbo, I just …” When Bilbo pulled away the remnants of his smallclothes, leaving his lower body bare, he hissed, unable to finish his explanation.

He needed Bilbo, needed him so much this very second. His whole body was on fire, burning for his lover, and he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw Bilbo sinking to his knees in front of him, trapped between the tree and his trembling form.

Gently, so as to not agitate his sweet dwarf any more, Bilbo circled the head of his lover’s pulsing erection with the tip of his tongue. The desperate noises that escaped Thorin’s throat showed Bilbo that his ministrations were very welcome.

Touching the unclad thighs of his dwarf, gently caressing the hot skin with his fingers, Bilbo used his mouth to gently arouse his lover further. Little nips and licks, a gentle kiss on the underside of the erect flesh, had Thorin breathless in no time and Bilbo could hear the bark crunching under his dwarf’s strong clutch. More than once did he feel his lover’s hands trail through his curly hair, only to pull back as soon as Bilbo took him deeper, pulling another needy whine from his partner.

 

His mouth, his lips, his fingers, his hands … every part of him that was able to come in contact with his future husband cooled down and burned up in equal parts. He knew how talented Bilbo’s mouth was, had enjoyed his clever tongue in the past, but today he was torn between pulling back because it was too much and moving forward to get even more.

Every time he gave in to his urge to reach for Bilbo’s head and tenderly coax the hobbit to deepen their connection, his body shot sparks of pain through his bloodstream because of the strength of his desires.

Yet Bilbo seemed to be entirely aware of what was going on. He always pulled back when his movements seemed to overwhelm Thorin. When the inevitable peak surfaced, it crushed the dwarf like a tidal wave. Thorin could only sob and shiver through it, making sure that he didn’t accidentally crush his lover against the tree. He lost all of his strength and broke down and fell to his knees in front of Bilbo, instantly being enveloped by his partner.

It was a little embarrassing how fast he had reached fulfilment and for a moment he couldn’t even look at his lover. However, the small but strong arms that wrapped around his upper body, pulling him into the frame of his hobbit, soothed him gently. Finally letting go of the bark, he wound his arms around his lover, pulling them together, ignoring the fact that his lower body was still bare and that he was most likely soiling Bilbo’s clothes.

But for once his hobbit didn’t seem to think anything about marks on his outfit. On the contrary, he caressed every part of Thorin he could reach, trailing his fingers through his long, raven strands, whispering nonsense into his ear to calm him down.

After a few moments, Bilbo tried to untangle them, something Thorin only allowed with great reluctance, looking down at the mess he had made. Only when he felt a tender hand caressing his face, did he look up.

His lover’s face was mostly in the dark, but his affectionate voice reached him nevertheless. “Let’s go home, lover. We will be far more comfortable in our room than between the roots of this tree.”

 

Thorin could only nod approvingly, pushing himself to his feet, putting his clothes in order, so that he would not be the laughing stock of the Shire, if someone crossed their path. Swiftly they wandered through the nightly streets, leaving behind a group of dwarrows who sang and danced around a giant bonfire, until Balin threw a straw puppet – complete with leather armor, dwarven axe and strands of hair from every member of the company – into the blazing flames. Everybody cheered when their sacrifice was carried to the heavens in smoke.

 

The Councillor had learned that every family made a ritual offering for the harvest festival, burning it as a symbol of their gratitude to the Green Lady for having gifted them with another rich harvest. Having found Dís and Dwalin hidden behind a tent and sending them home, having seen Fíli and Kíli practically running towards Bag End, and sure that Bilbo and Thorin wouldn’t return either, Balin had taken it upon himself to represent their ‘family’ at the bonfire.

The remaining dwarrows, Nori, Dori and Ori, Gloin and Oin, as well as Bifur, Bofur and Bombur stood at his side. They all beamed, joyously watching the bonfire and the Councillor. Balin did his their best to honour the traditions of the Shire, and when their straw puppet burst into flames, its trousers – made of one of Bilbo’s old shirts – dancing in the firelight, every last hobbit urged them on to join their dancing around the fire.

It truly HAD been a good year, so it was only justified to thank the gods for it.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The round, green door of Bag End shut with a loud bang, kicked closed by an impatient foot. As soon as they were hidden from view, Thorin crowded his lover against the next wall, pulling him closer, kissing him desperately. He couldn’t get enough of Bilbo, his touch was the only thing that could soothe the burning that ignited his body.

The hobbit however, didn’t seem to have any problems with his displays of affection, not now when they were safe inside his home. Pulling on Thorin’s shirt urgently, putting his small hands on naked skin, forced a blissful groan from his lover, stilling him so that his fiancé could make quick work of his clothes. The corridor to the master bedroom was decorated with clothes, flowers and a pair of heavy boots; they only paused for a heartbeat, when they heard a powerful shout echoing through Bag End, indicating that at least one of the inhabitants of the smial had gotten lucky.

Obviously they were not the only ones who had found a swift way back to their sanctuary. Usually Bilbo would puff at such an open display of intimacy, even if it was only verbal, because in the hobbit’s opinion what happened between lovers should stay solely between them. But tonight he really didn’t seem to care. Instead he closed their door silently behind them and pulled a more than willing Thorin towards the bed.

Showering his lover with kisses and caresses, Thorin buried himself in the smaller frame. Except when Bilbo tried to realign them, so that he could prepare his lover for the taking, the dwarf shook his head. Tilting his head, Bilbo raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

Yet under the scrutinizing gaze, Thorin felt reluctant to voice his wishes. Only when Bilbo started to kiss him again, pulling him down, so that he covered his hobbit’s body with his own, being wrapped in a cocoon of Bilbo’s arms and legs, holding him safe and hugging him affectionately, the dwarf was able to whisper, “Would it … would it be alright if I were on top tonight?”

Nudging his lover’s face with his nose, so that he would turn his head as to look at him, Bilbo asked curiously, “You want to take me instead of the other way around?”

Completely baffled by the suggestion, Thorin shook his head urgently. Taking his hobbit was completely out of the question, he was far too big, he would hurt his smaller lover, and apart from that – the prince had to admit to himself – he wouldn’t even know how to start. The fear of causing his partner pain or even injuring him weighed far too heavy on his mind to even think about it. “No! I just thought that … that maybe I could …”

Frustrated, because he was unable to find the right words, the dwarf was turning to the side, moving away from his lover. But Bilbo stilled his movements. Looking up into the face of his fiancé the hobbit only smiled and gently caressed his cheek, capturing his lips once more. Only when Thorin relaxed noticeably, did Bilbo pull back again, and gently stroke over his thighs, urging his dwarf to crouch up on the bed.

Thorin was slightly confused when he straddled Bilbo’s chest, but when his lover lifted his head, capturing the tip of his erection between his lips, he couldn’t help but groan at the delicious feeling that travelled through his body. He reached for the headboard, holding on to it for all it was worth. Next he felt his hobbit’s clever fingers travelling over his backside, lower and lower until he reached his hole.

Desiring to help, the dwarf grope blindly on the nightstand to reach for the small pot of oil that had found its permanent place there ever since the night at the river. Yet a particular stimulating nip on the side of his cock made him nearly spill the liquid all over the furniture. After that he refrained from letting go of the steady wood above Bilbo’s head.

His hobbit, however, seemed more than capable of dealing with the lubricant on his own. After a moment Thorin felt slippery fingers nudging at his entrance. Moving urgently he nearly choked his lover and looked down, terrified, when Bilbo pushed him back a little, only to have the hobbit nip at the inside of his thighs, teasing another groan from him. He promised himself that he would keep his body in check, yet Bilbo’s clever fingers and skilled tongue didn’t allow him to succeed.

After only a few minutes he shivered and moved unsteadily above his lover, needing more, getting too much, as his lover’s fingers grazed over his sweet spot, while his lips nipped at his engorged cock. His body felt more alive than he could remember, taking in every point of contact, every touch of his fiancé far more intensely, due to the ‘special’ drink he had consumed.

When he was sure that he would burst the next moment, Bilbo stilled his ministrations. Thorin couldn’t stop a whine escaping him, looking down at his lover anxiously. Why wasn’t his hobbit continuing? Had he had enough? Thorin hadn’t touched Bilbo in any way, maybe is fiancé had waited for him to also take the initiative, but how could he have done that, when the only thing he had been capable of was swallowing his blissful shouts, so that not all of the current inhabitants of Bag End knew what they were doing?

So when his lover pushed him back a little, Thorin was more than ready to beg only to have their play continue, because as soon as the intimate contact ceased, his body was overwhelmed by the burning need for his partner once again. Lowering himself, breathing harshly into Bilbo’s neck the dwarf tried to find the right words, to persuade his fiancé, “Bilbo, please, I …”

Yet, when he suddenly felt a small nudging at his entrance – something that definitely could NOT come from Bilbo’s hands, because he could feel them between their bodies – he interrupted himself with a powerful hiss and looked up again. But all his hobbit did was gradually easing him back and joining their bodies in the most pleasant way. Thorin wiggled pack impatiently, only to whimper slightly, when he had overestimated his readiness for accepting his lover in his overheated body.

Instantly Bilbo stilled his movements and allowed his dwarf to adjust to the intrusion. But far too soon for the hobbit’s liking the dwarf sank down on his shaft completely, so that their pelvises touched once more.

“Thorin, don’t … you will hurt yourself, my sweet,” Bilbo whispered, trying his best to calm Thorin down. The slight tremors that shook his fiancé’s frame, however, told him that every attempt would be in vain. The drugs that only relaxed hobbits seemed to work like an aphrodisiac on dwarrows, and despite his attempts to slow down his lover, he apparently couldn’t wait to be joined with Bilbo. Gently rubbing his thumbs over Thorin’s hips, holding the dwarf immobile to the best of his abilities, he felt the powerful body above his shiver with need.

For a mere moment they just breathed together, Thorin touching their foreheads, his fingers buried in the cushions beside Bilbo’s head, needing to be as close to him as possible. After a far too short time his lover whispered, “Let go, Bilbo, please. I have to move.”

But the hobbit was still reluctant, “You will hurt yourself. Just a few more moments, Thorin …”

Yet Thorin only stoically shook his head, leaning down to Bilbo, claiming his mouth with feverish intent, moving his body, despite his lover’s attempts to slow him down.

 

It was pure heaven, like this was meant to be. Everything he had thought about this entire evening, everything he had ever dreamed about. Moving above Bilbo, controlling the speed, the angle, the intensity of the contact was bliss for Thorin and finally made him forget the fire in his veins.

He lost himself in the passion of their lovemaking, forgetting everything around them but for the feeling of skin moving against skin. He arched into Bilbo’s hands, when the hobbit’s expert fingers wrapped around his erection again, pushing into them, with every upturn move he made. Far too soon his movements changed from controlled and luxurious to frantic, the closer he felt his peak rising to the surface. He wanted to drag this out because he doubted that another orgasm could be enough to satisfy him.

Yet when Bilbo added a particular stimulating twist to the movements of his hand, Thorin was lost in the throes of pleasure. He wanted to shout, to shower his lover with endearments and promises for their future, yet all he could do was bite his teeth together to keep himself from crying out, announcing his bliss to every current resident of Bag End. When he fell forward after painting Bilbo’s and his own body with the sticky, white fluid, he nearly crushed the hobbit under his weight.

Bilbo on the other hand didn’t seem to mind particularly. Instead he wrapped his arms around Thorin’s shivering frame, pulling him even closer against his chest. His soothing words barely penetrated the satisfied haze of the dwarf’s mind, but the tone of his voice alone made Thorin feel cherished and warm inside. Kind words were whispered, the ghost of Bilbo’s breath cooled his burning skin. All he wanted to do was holding on to his lover, forgetting the world outside until the end of time.

Yet his itching skin didn’t allow him a lot of leniency, and soon he felt uncomfortable again, squirming in Bilbo’s embrace.

Sheepishly he looked down, something that earned him a kiss onto the top of his nose by a cheeky little hobbit. “Still not satisfied, lover? Maybe you want to play again?” Fingertips trailing over Thorin’s chest, teasing his raised nipples, made him arch his back, presenting his body freely to his lover.

“Maybe you want to find out what happens when two lovers are working in union in this position. What do you say?” Leaning slightly up, capturing one of the risen peaks with his teeth, Bilbo put his feet on the mattress and used his leverage to push up into Thorin’s body.

The dwarf nearly fell over and hastily clutched the headboard again for leverage. His amazed eyes caught the twinkling ones of his lover, and when Bilbo winked he pushed back. It didn’t take the two of them long to find a rhythm that would bring the most pleasure to the both of them.

This time Bilbo wasn’t so lenient with his lover. Every time Thorin reached for his cock to add the little bit of additional stimulation he would need to reach his orgasm, Bilbo either pulled his fingers away or intertwined theirs, placing Thorin’s hands either back onto the headboard or burying them in the soft cloth of his sheets.

It was maddening and brilliant at the same time. Having Bilbo pushing into him, grazing over his sweet spot with nearly every stroke, made Thorin see stars. Yet it wasn’t enough for the dwarf to find release. Frantically he pushed back, increasing the friction, yet the contact was never enough. Nearly sobbing with desire, Thorin folded his body over Bilbo’s again, burying his face in his lover’s shoulder.

That however seemed to be exactly what Bilbo had worked for, because instantly his hobbit’s hands wrapped around his body, repositioning him, so that his cock was trapped between Thorin’s muscular and Bilbo’s soft belly. Demanding lips found his again, and when the hobbit’s tongue invaded his mouth, very much like his cock invaded his body, Thorin saw nothing but white, the stimulations in that very second too much for his body to handle.

With a desperate cry he came again, and after only two more pulls he felt his lover spending himself inside of him. Tears leaked from his eyes and he sobbed silently when the overwhelming emotions wracked his worn-out body. But instead of feeling shame because of Thorin’s spectacular lack of composure, after such a particularly strong drug-induced orgasm, Bilbo only gently folded his arms around his lover and when their bodies separated; he even intertwined their legs.

 

Patiently, caressing his lover caringly, Bilbo waited for his dwarf to come down to earth again. He didn’t worry any more when his lover’s tears wetted their sheets. Only when he felt Thorin calm down, his breath evening out, did Bilbo wiggle free from the heavy body on top of his. He collected the basin from his dresser, filling it with water from the mug beside it, and returned with a soft rag, which always lay prepared there.

With tender movements he cleaned the traces of their lovemaking from his drowsy intended. After that he disposed of the water, getting fresh, tepid one from the kitchen, to wash away the tears and the sweat from his dwarf’s exhausted form. Throwing the soiled sheets to the floor, covering the both of them with the ever-present ‘outdoor’ quilt, he kissed his lover’s head as soon as Thorin claimed his proper place on his hobbit’s chest. Even when mostly asleep, his fiancé still found his way back into this position. Bilbo had given up sleeping any other way than on his back weeks ago.

Looking towards the window, he imagined seeing the faint flickers of the mighty bonfire he knew had to be illuminating the Party Meadow. Though, when he thought of his fellow hobbits, his dwarvish friends, the ale and the meals, the dancing and the merrymaking, and then looked down at his sleeping lover on his chest, he knew that he wouldn’t trade places with any of them, even when they were dancing under the stars.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As most of you might have noticed, I have changed this work into a series. I have asked some time ago what you - as my cherished readers - would prefer, and when someone made a vote it was generally in breaking up the story into two parts.
> 
> The first one will continue until Bilbo and his dwarrows will depart from the Shire. The second part will contain the adventures he will experience in the Blue Mountains. 
> 
> There are a few more chapters to come in this part, to give you ample time to prepare yourself and bookmark the series. I hope you will continue following me over to the second part of the story. 
> 
> Love  
> Anchanee


	53. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Many worries, blissful revelations and a little heartache at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long, but I had the most horrid first week of school. But tomorrow is Friday, last day of the week. Friday is good, I like Fridays!

Dwalin was the first one to wake the next morning, reluctant to open his eyes. He felt warm and content for the first time in … forever. When he took a deep breath he realized that there was a delicate scent right next to him. It smelled like leather and fresh fruits, but most of all like mountains, like HIS mountain … like home.

The owner of the smell turned around in his arms, and he felt a soft beard and even softer skin on his chest. And then he felt a pair of velvet lips brushing over his ribcage. He had to bite back a sob because he realized in that very moment that this was nothing but a dream. The afterglow of a marvellous night, full of passion and lovemaking. He forced his arms to remain steady and not hug the lady-dwarf that lay comfortable on his chest, pulling her in and never letting her go.

When his arms started to shake due to his desperate attempts to keep them still, he heard a soft chuckle – obviously the woman in his bed was not as fast asleep as he had hoped. Her voice was melodic and uncharacteristically soft when she asked, “What’s wrong, âzyungâl? Do you regret already what has happened?”

“Don’t call me that,” was Dwalin’s hoarse reply. He felt helpless against such a soft and sweet voice and finally his urge to pull Dís even closer to his chest overwhelmed him. But the princess obviously didn’t mind. On the contrary, she snuggled into his side, fanning her hair over his arm when huddling closer.

Her question came as a mere whisper. “Why?”

Touching her soft locks, kissing her head lovingly, Dwalin answered, matching her low tone, “Because if you call me ‘lover’ I might carry the hope that what had happened last night might occur again, my ghivasha. And I don’t know if I am strong enough to live with a hope that can never be fulfilled.”

Now Dís wiggled free from Dwalin’s embrace. But instead of getting up and asking the warrior to leave her bed as he expected, she repositioned herself. She crawled onto the strong frame, finding a comfortable resting place, wiggling a little on top of the warrior like a giant cat that wanted to determine whether the chosen place was to her liking, before folding her hands on his chest, placing her chin on them. That position allowed her a perfect view of her warrior’s face.

The warrior himself got an admirable picture of a lady-dwarf whose face was surrounded with messy black locks, looking at him with piercing blue eyes. Eyes that reflected so much intelligence and so many feelings he couldn’t dare thinking about. So he had to close his eyes to keep himself from leaning into her once again, capturing her lips like he had risked last night. Dís however seemed to have different plans.

He sighed longingly when he felt soft fingertips grazing his bottom lip. The lip she had bitten last night, revealing to be quite a wildcat in bed. Still, her touches were gentle and light, as were her words when she asked, “Why would you say that, Dwalin? How can you call me your ‘treasure’ and yet neglect the possibility of us being together again? I ask you again: do you regret what had happened yesterday?”

Now the warrior opened his eyes wide and shook his head empathically. “Never! Last night was the best night of my life, my Lady. But that doesn’t magically change what I am. I’m a warrior, your brother’s guardian. And while this is an honourable position, it surely is not worthy the attention of a princess. I have no illusions regarding my place.”

Smiling teasingly, Dís whispered, wiggling her lower body a little: “There is nothing wrong with your position, my love, or do you have any complaints?”

Grinding his teeth, barely able to keep himself in check and not take Dís again when she lay so willingly – and most of all naked – on his very interested body, Dwalin forced out, “Dís, please!” Taking a calming breath, looking at her with so much sadness and heartache, that her smile was washed away from her face instantly. Even more so when she heard him plead, “Please don’t do this to me. Last night was a dream, a wonderful, impossible dream that I will always keep in my heart. But I am aware that there can never be more. Your father wouldn’t have it. You are the princess of our people. You deserve better than a simple warrior.”

Unable to keep his emotions under control, Dwalin closed his eyes again and turned his head. He would not lose the last of his dignity by crying like a little kid for a treat he could never have.

 

With a sigh, Dís decided that it seemed to be in the very nature of a dwarf in love, to be blind to the feelings of the objects of their desire. Thorin was like that with Bilbo and obviously his best friend was very much the same. But for the first time in years she didn’t want to do what was right, because Dwalin was absolutely correct. A warrior and a princess would be a scandal in the Blue Mountains. Yet she found that she really couldn’t care less any more.

She loved her father, and was an obedient subject to her king. But if Thráin dared to take this from her, he would learn how much stubbornness, which was said to be a mark of the Durin line, was part of her personality.

Pushing her body upright, placing herself so that she sat right on Dwalin’s stomach, she poked his chest quite forcefully, urging him to look at her again. “I know what I deserve, Dwalin, son of Fundin! And nobody, neither you nor my father, will take that from me.

“I deserve a man who looks at me like the sun and moon rise with me. Who touches me like I am the most treasured jewel in all Middle-earth. Who speaks to me with respect, but never with humility. Someone who dares – albeit privately – to call me on my faults when I do something foolish, but still loves me even when I am NOT the perfect princess for our people.

“Make no mistake, Dwalin; I was faithful to the father of my son’s, because for giving them to me he deserved nothing less. We were good friends and I mourned him deeply when he fell in the attack on Moria. But he never, not once in his life, looked at me like you do. And after everything we have been though, I don’t want to give that up.”

 

Reaching for the hand that had touched his cheek during this passionate speech, placing an adoring kiss on the palm of it, Dwalin looked at his princess. She was beauty incarnate, not because of her looks but because of everything she was: skilled, intelligent, resourceful and most of all the strongest person he had ever come across. When two little boys had mourned their father, she had been like a rock for them, someone they could cling to, someone who could help them to grow into the two responsible dwarrows he had gotten to know here.

So there was really only one thing he could say. “You won’t have to give it up, my princess. Not when I have a say in it. I love you, Dís, always have and I always will. You _are_ my sun and my moon and a greater treasure than all the gems in Middle-earth and I am glad that this mischievous little hobbit served us drinks that allowed me to finally act on my feelings. I never dreamed about you returning them.”

“Not even after me taking your flowers?” Dís asked in wonder.

“No, not even after the flowers, because I still thought you believed them to be a present from Bilbo.” Dwalin didn’t like to admit that it had stung a little that Dís had carried a blossom in his hair. He had been convinced she identified them as a present from their host. Yet when he had discovered that she had known the originator all along, he had felt pure joy … well, first embarrassment and THEN pure joy.

Shaking her head at her stubborn warrior, Dís leaned down so that their noses nearly touched. Remembering last night, she whispered, “I think the effect of the drink is not entirely gone. I feel hot again, âzyungâl. What about you?”

Arching into the contact, lovingly tracing his lady’s lips with his own, Dwalin admitted, “I’m burning more and more with every passing minute. I really think that we should do something about that.”

 

It turned out that Dís and Dwalin were the last ones to join the company for second breakfast. But nobody dared to say a word about it, especially because Dwalin sported an impressive hickey at the side of his neck and Dís looked positively murderously at anybody who would dare to say anything about it.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

“He hates us!” The sun had already started to rise when Kíli’s pained voice shook his brother out of his worship of his brother’s naked back and the scratch marks he had left there.

Stopping to paint invisible patterns on his sibling’s skin, Fíli raised his head and asked worriedly, “Who hates us? Why would you say such a thing?”

Turning in his brother’s arms, cheeks wet with fallen tears, Kíli whispered, “Bilbo. Didn’t you see his face yesterday? He was shocked and disgusted by what we did. We should never have …”

“Kíli, stop.” Fíli’s words were soft but determined when he interrupted his brother’s tearful self-berating. Gently caressing his lover’s cheeks, pulling his braids back over his shoulder, he reminded his sibling, “He calls us ‘his boys’. How can you think that he could ever hate us?”

Sniffling wetly, Kíli whispered, clearly not convinced by his brother’s assurance, “But he poured water over our heads to separate us, and when he sent us back to Bag End he looked so stern!”

That, however, was an argument Fíli couldn’t refute. Last night had been kind of hazy, even for him. He remembered the burning in his veins and the conviction that only Kíli could make it better. His little brother seemed to feel the same way, because they hadn’t even needed words to leave the company and find a tree far away from the other hobbits to calm the first waves of desire.

Never before had he needed his brother so much and though they were usually careful not to act on their relationship in public, very few people understood their love. Yesterday he had stopped thinking about what was right and only given in to his desire. The best they had done was hide from prying eyes and not roll around on the first hayball they had spotted.

Fíli thought that he could remember Bilbo coming for them, talking to them, even touching them, but his yearning for his brother had overwhelmed every conscious thought. Only the cold water had cleared his mind a little, so that he could obey their hobbit’s command. And Kíli was right, Bilbo HAD looked terribly stern when he had ordered them to return to Bag End and demanded to remain out of his sight for the rest of the evening.

He hadn’t thought about it yesterday, because the plan to get his brother into the safety of their own bedroom had overshadowed everything else. But when he remembered the tone of Bilbo’s voice and the look of his eyes, it surely stung. He was used to soft eyes and a kind voice from their hobbit, not strong commands and strict orders regarding their actions.

With a sigh he removed himself from his brother’s taller frame. “We will go to him and apologize. And if he is still angry with us, we will find a way to make amends. Bilbo is our hobbit, he will be our uncle and he won’t be angry with us forever.”

“Promise?” It was very rare that Kíli’s usually so cheerful and energetic voice sounded so small and unsure and for Fíli there was really only one reaction possible, pulling his brother into a heavy embrace, rubbing over his back soothingly, assuring him, “Promise!” before rising and looking for fresh clothes they could wear after they had washed away the remnants of last night.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

“You did not!” Thorin’s stated unbelievingly.

“Oh yes, I did!” was Bilbo’s amused reply. “Have you ever tried to separate them when they are … you know … in the middle of things? They wouldn’t react to me talking to them, they didn’t even register that I was trying to pull them apart. Honestly, what would you have done?”

With a booming laugh, because Thorin could barely imagine his nephews standing before Bilbo after being doused with water, the dwarf reached for the big pan, to help his hobbit prepare second breakfast. Everybody had been far too tired to rise for the first, so Bilbo’s worries about neglecting his guests had turned out to be needless.

Thorin had done his very best to keep his hobbit in the confines of their bedroom. Because while their intercourse the night before had been passionate and fulfilling and even a little trying if he was honest with himself, he enjoyed the lazy and sweet coupling they had savoured this morning. Bilbo was, when Thorin didn’t actually fight him on it, as sweet and tender as he was used to, massaging the strain out of his fiancé’s muscles, which their activities had put there.

They had explored the possibilities of the newfound position from last night, taking their time with it. Thorin had not believed something like that to be so fulfilling, and he had doubted that his hobbit fancied being towered over by a dwarf nearly twice his width. But Bilbo obviously enjoyed seeing Thorin all passionate and intense above him. And after both had found their release, they had dozed off again, entangled with each other. Only after the sun had risen high in the sky, had Bilbo forced them out of bed and into the bathroom to take a not-too-long but nevertheless relaxing bath together, before preparing second breakfast.

The story of how the hobbit had found his nephews and had sent them off to Bag End was an endless source of amusement for Thorin. Usually a stern look or a forceful clearing of his or their mother’s throat was enough to break the siblings apart. But with the drug in their system, Thorin could very well imagine that Bilbo wouldn’t have had it that easy.

The hobbit was raiding his pantry for fresh fruits and vegetables that would give his hung-over dwarrows the necessary energy to go through their day, as well as the necessary vitamins to get over their headaches.

Thorin was preparing the bacon and the eggs for frying when he heard two sets of feet approaching the kitchen quite reluctantly. Pulling the pan from the oven because this promised to be an interesting conversation, the prince turned around, folded his arms in front of his chest and looked upon his nephews with stern eyes.

“We wanted to say sorry.”

“We will never touch out in the open that way.”

“Please don’t be angry at us.”

“We will make it up to you, whichever way you choose!”

Fíli and Kíli were talking on top of each other, clearly stressed because of the situation, their hands intertwined and clutching each other nervously, concentrating solely on their bare feet. Obviously Bilbo’s open displeasure with their actions worried both brothers deeply. Secretly Thorin was more than pleased with this development, because it showed how much the hobbit meant to the youngest members of his family.

Yet their open display of affection could have had a worse outcome than Bilbo drenching them. They were princes of the Line of Durin and they had to think about the consequences of their actions AHEAD OF taking them. Had a dwarf, other than Balin, Dwalin or Nori, found them, Thorin could not foretell the consequences. So he pretended ignorance and asked in a grim voice, “What, by Mahal, are you two talking about?”

The eyes of his nephews flew to him and they blanched, hectically looking around for Bilbo.

“Uncle! We … we didn’t see you. Do you …”

“Do you know where Bilbo is?”

Realizing that his nephews were aiming for a hasty retreat, Thorin stepped up to them, a growl from him freezing them on the spot, repeating his question: “What is going on?”

 

“Last night Bilbo …” Fíli started after a moment’s hesitation, only to be interrupted by his younger brother, who stated despairingly, “Bilbo hates us!”

Losing his stern posture, because that was too serious to make fun of, Thorin reached for his nephews and put his hands on one shoulder each. His voice was warm and deep when he assured them, “Bilbo could never hate you. Why would you think that?”

Looking at Fíli’s pale face, hugging his younger nephew gently, when the boy buried his face in his uncle’s shoulder, he listened to the explanation of the blond dwarf.

“We were … we were kissing each other and, and a little more than that. We were so hot and everything was so strange and all we knew was that we needed each other. And after we found … after we finished, Bilbo came and poured water over our heads. Then he ordered us to return to Bag End and said that he didn’t want to see us again.”

Clutching his uncle’s shirt, Fíli pleaded, desperate for the older dwarf’s understanding, “I know we are not supposed to … to do these things out in the open, but we couldn’t resist. We know it was wrong and we will accept any punishment. Bilbo just can’t hate us for it. Please, Uncle, you have to help us. He was so angry and so stern. He didn’t even ask what was going on, just dousing us with the water and sending us off …”

Pitying his nephews, because he remembered the burning desire from yesterday still very clearly, Thorin looked at his salvation shaking his head. Bilbo stood in the doorway, arms full of fruits and vegetables, gently putting them on the kitchen table when listening in on the scene before him.

How could Thorin berate his nephews for something he would have done himself, if his hobbit had shown even the smallest concession? Bilbo had been his voice of reason and now he had his arms full of his nephews who were afraid of the only person who had protected them with a clear mind and unimpaired judgement. Clearly their hobbit had been the ONLY voice of reason any of them had been able to understand, yesterday.

“Fíli, Kíli … I could never hate you.”

Even though Bilbo’s voice was soft and kind again, both boys whipped around, swaying slightly. Thorin could feel the tremors running through their bodies. But they stood their ground, accepting whatever Bilbo had in store for them, due to their improper behaviour.

But his hobbit only gathered them in his embrace, gently caressing their cheeks while explaining, “You were drugged to your eyeballs yesterday. I TRIED talking to you. I even tried to pull you apart; the water was really my last resort. You could barely understand what I was saying, so I simply sent you off to Bag End, so that nobody would see you.”

Hesitantly, Kíli lifted his eyes, looking at Bilbo, asking anxiously, “Then you don’t hate us?”

In a mere whisper Fíli added, “You were just ashamed because …”

“Oh bugger. THIS is what you make of last night? That I am ashamed of you and hate you because I caught you shagging under a tree?” Shaking his head in disbelief, Bilbo pulled his boys even closer so that their foreheads touched, tenderly caressing their necks.

In a low voice he assured them, “Fíli, Kíli, you will listen to me very closely now: I could never, EVER hate you, and I will NEVER be ashamed of you just because you love each other.”

Shaking the dwarrows a little so that the message might sink in, he continued, “I was just breaking you apart because you were seriously impaired due to the drinks I had served you. And I didn’t want you to be caught by any of my neighbours and be the subject of the gossip for the next weeks. You deserve better than that. You have done so many good things here, and how you feel about each other is nobody’s business but your own. Do you understand me?”

When both nodded hesitantly, Bilbo pulled them in and they returned his embrace rather forcefully. “I love you, stupid boys. And nothing you can say or do will ever change that.”

 

Thorin was glad, really glad that everything was alright again. He didn’t begrudge his nephews Bilbo’s love, he was happy for them. The jealousy from the beginning of the summer, when he had thought that the hobbit had chosen his nephews over him, was gone. Because now he knew that Bilbo would marry HIM and not one of his nephews. There was no reason to be jealous. Not at all!

And if he told himself that, over and over again, he might one day actually believe it.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	54. Guests are leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first dwarrows are departing towards the Blue Mountains and Bilbo find's out what is really important.

After managing this crisis, all the Durins helped with the preparations for second breakfast for all hung over dwarrows in Bag End. By nine o’clock they all sat around the garden table, silently staring into their drinks or mulling over their overflowing plates that contained freshly baked bread, eggs and bacon, mushrooms and fried tomatoes. A strong tea and vegetable and fruit drinks and lots and lots of water helped the dwarrows to get over the aftermaths of the party.

By ten they were generally back to normal, slight headaches notwithstanding, and ready to depart towards the Party Meadow to help with the clean-up. Wagons were brought along, with which the remaining hayballs could be transported to the barns they belonged to. Long lines of big basins were placed on the tables where the mugs and the dishes could be washed, each accompanied with a stack of rags to dry them before they were stacked to be picked up by their respective owners.

 

Like every year, vocal discussions broke out among the hobbit lasses, which plate, pan or bowl belonged to whom. A particular vicious fight took place between Amanda Chubb-Baggins and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. They stood in the middle of the meadow, shouting at each other about a plain copper casserole pan. When Fíli and Kíli tried to support the wife of their employer, Bilbo held them back with a smile.

Wordlessly he shook his head and guided them to a bench, where they could watch the fight from a safe distance, yet hear every word that was shouted. After a while Falco came along and Bilbo gave him a coin, betting on Lobelia to win this argument. Completely dumbfounded, the young dwarrows watched him as if he was betraying their most beloved lady-hobbit.

Yet Thorin – who had taken a position at the other side of the table – knew his future husband a little better by now to think that he was acting on a whim. If Bilbo was betting on Lobelia to win this fight, he knew something. To get some enlightenment, he leaned towards Bilbo and asked in a low voice. “Why are you betting on Lobelia? I thought you didn’t like her.”

Bilbo grinned back, revealing with a wink, “Because the dish is actually hers.”

Stunned, Fíli and Kíli looked at their hobbit. “How do you know?”

Laughing Bilbo said, “Well you know too when you think about it, because you were babysitting the fauntlings when Amanda was baking her famous cakes for two days straight. Only with your help could she take the time she needed. So I can be absolutely sure that she only brought cake pans and baking trays from her kitchen. Therefore the casserole pan has to be Lobelia’s.”

“Then why is Missus Amanda shouting so much that she should take it with her?” Fíli and Kíli looked at each other, not understanding why their usually so content hobbit-mother made such a show of begrudging someone a dish that actually belonged to her.

Terribly amused, Bilbo revealed, “Because Lobelia did the very same thing last year: demanding to take a plate from Amanda that didn’t belong to her. Amanda only dishes out what she received. The shouting match last year lasted nearly half an hour and my dear cousin surely doesn’t want Lobelia to best her when it comes to stubbornness and lung capacity.”

 

Much like Bilbo, most hobbits obviously didn’t think too much of the public fighting, because they either manoeuvred around the squabblers, or they found a resting-place and enjoyed a pipe in the warm sun. After little more than half an hour, Adamanta finally admitted that Lobelia was right and the scratch at the very bottom of the pan truly proved that the dish was hers, because SHE would take much better care of her things, never allowing them to be scratched, and left with an air of smugness.

When Fíli and Kíli scrambled after her, to see if she was alright, she only patted them on the cheek and ordered them to gather her bakeforms and bring them back to her smial. If they were swift and didn’t scratch anything, she might even have a few treats for them after lunch. Aware that Amanda’s treats were always truly delicious, the boys scuttled off, picking up all of her dishes in an instant and walking with her to the woodworker’s shop.

 

Good-natured and well entertained, the rest of the hobbits returned to their work, and after a brief lunch of leftovers from last night – something the dwarrows still thought to be a feast after their meagre years – the clean-up was done by tea time. Lastly the meadow was cleaned of all the hay and the debris from the party and Bilbo was one of the last hobbits to help because he lived the closest and arriving in time for tea would really only take him a few minutes’ walk.

 

At his departure he spotted a piece of metal catch the sun for a moment, even if the surface was crooked and dull. Brushing away a few strands of burned hay, Bilbo picked it up and discovered that it was the piece of armour Thorin had wiggled free two days prior. The hobbit remembered Dori assembling their “offering” and hadn’t wanted to tell the dwarf that a ‘puppet’ was a little weird as a present for the Green Lady.

Usually the hobbits made baskets of fruits and the most beautiful flower arrangements as an offering for the Lady Yavanna. But Dori had put so much effort into the figure, completing it with things from each and every member of the company. Pieces of a broken quill had become a makeshift cape, leftover cloth was used to make its clothes and a wooden bead had held its multi-coloured headdress that contained strands of all of them. The little weapon the thing had had, had had a handle from a coal pencil from Ori and Thorin’s scale had been the axe-blade.

_A broken armour is as good as none._

Bilbo remembered these words, and though he had heard them from Fíli, he was sure that Thorin was their originator, maybe even his father the King. The hobbit was sure that Thorin had found a replacement for the loose scale, so he picked it up and carefully rubbed over its surface. It was a little out of shape, due to the heat of the fire. The Green Lady had taken all of the offerings in good will because nothing more than a few flakes of ash and hay remained. Yet Thorin’s scale had been left behind.

Logically Bilbo knew that metal just wouldn’t melt from the heat of a ‘normal’ fire. Standing even a foot away from the forge, feeling its heat, had taught him that smiths worked with far higher temperatures to melt their metal. And yet in his mind the left-behind scale was a present from his goddess, something to bring him luck on his upcoming journey, a memory of the Shire and everything that had happened here. It originated from his fiancé – a means of his protection – and had been blessed in the most hobbity act any inhabitant of the Shire could undertake, touched by the goddess who granted them prosperity and opulence.

So he asked one of his fellow hobbits for a string of leather. Bilbo found a leftover basin with a small amount of soapy water in it, and scrubbed the metal. The ash seemed to come off without much resistance, and the scale glittered in the late-afternoon light after the hobbit had dried it with his shirt. Threading the string though its hole, Bilbo pulled the scale over his head, hiding it under his shirt. He felt a little silly to wear a bent piece from his fiancé’s armour as a lucky charm, but not enough to put it off. And secretly he enjoyed the dull edges of it when they brushed over his skin.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

It only took another day for Dís to ready the first wagons from the mountains. Three caravans with ten carriages each would travel from Hobbiton to the Blue Mountains. The dwarrows had received far, far more food than they had expected; and even when Bilbo reminded them that a good part of it was seed for springtime, they still felt giddy and joyful seeing all the riches they would take to their kingdom.

The princess was the first Durin who would return to the Blue Mountains. Fíli and Kíli had asked to stay behind as long as possible, and there had been no question about Thorin travelling only at Bilbo’s side. Therefore Balin and Dwalin had opted to take the last caravan as well, even when Dwalin had clearly longed to stay at Dís’s side. But Gloin was her guardian and even when the warrior didn’t like it, abandoning his prince was out of the question.

Oin had asked to stay behind as well. Now that the majority of the work was done, he wanted to take a few days to trade recipes for salves and healing potions with the hobbits of the Shire. Especially Adamanta Took had proven to be a skilled healer and midwife, and had taken great joy in engaging in heated discussions with the old dwarf about the uses of various herbs and teas for treating one or another ache or pain.

Bifur and Bofur had also asked to stay behind. They had been employed by the local toymaker, and even though the payment was meagre, because the hobbit in question was not very well off, they enjoyed working there, and even one short week would mean a lot to them. Mostly it was because they worked at the market place and were surrounded by children constantly, who asked about their home in the mountains and demanded stories on a regular basis. They liked Bifur’s stories best, because the grunting and funny noises the dwarf made when telling them – even though Bofur had to translate every sentence.

Bombur on the other hand asked to be allowed to travel at Dís’s side, because he wanted to make sure that the precious food was stored properly and would not go to waste over the winter months. Also he was one of the dwarrows who could identify the seed from the food corn the easiest. (Not that it was very hard, because the seed was clearly marked.)

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Two days after the dwarrows, the elves left as well. Elladan and Elrohir promised that they would write this time. Honestly, with their hands on their hearts. Neither of the three of the involved parties believed this promise, but Bilbo hugged them nevertheless, telling them to be good and not drive their father and siblings crazy with their antics.

Arwen was next, hugging the hobbit with unexpected strength. It was strange for Bilbo to see the usually so composed and calm lady in green cloth-armor with a sword on her back. But he realized that Elrond’s children were old enough to take care of themselves, even when the sight of his favourite Evenstar with deadly weapons seemed strange to him. She too promised to write to Bilbo, find books in her father’s library that would deal with leeched soil and send reports and advice to him, about how to best deal with these problems. Bilbo believed her and promised to answer each and every one of her letters.

Estel was last. The young man wore leather armour and low-key clothes, a cloak with a hood that could cover his head. Had he not known, Bilbo would not have believed him to be a part of the Elvish traveling party. Yet the look in the eyes of Elrond’s other children when gazing at their youngest brother assured him that Estel was a much beloved member of their family.

Once more the young human male offered Bilbo the amulet Bungo had made for him ten years before. And yet again Bilbo refused the gift. He liked the thought of Estel carrying something from his father to Rivendell. It was as if Bungo made these travels all over again, even after his death. Caught up in a fierce embrace, the human and the hobbit stood before Bilbo’s smial much longer than any of the elves. But in the end Estel mirrored Bilbo’s kind smile, before mounting his horse, following his family.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The second caravan departed a week later; Bifur, Bofur and Dori, Nori and Ori would travel with it. And while Ori demanded to be left behind, so that he would have more time for his ‘field studies’, after a quick look over his little brother’s sketches and drawings Nori had decided that they were sufficient and they all could leave as planned.

When the convoy left, the Durins stood at the marketplace where they had said their goodbyes to their friends. Many of the dwarrows had – though initially only superficially familiar with the others – developed unexpected, yet dear friendships, and all of them were sad to see them go. Even if some of them – mostly a certain hobbit – seemed to breathe a little easier, now that his smial was not overflowing with dwarrows anymore.

But when he returned that afternoon to prepare tea, he suddenly felt the emptiness of his home pressing in on him from all sides. For so many weeks his smial had been filled with laughing and excitement, and now with only his little family and Balin and Dwalin here, it seemed strangely empty. For the first time since coming to terms with the need to marry a dwarf, Bilbo found himself looking forward to his relocation to the mountains.

True, most of his blood-related family was here. His grandfather, numerous aunts and uncles and a whole slew of cousins, he knew that he would miss them all dearly. But the dwarrows of the mountains had become so much more to him than guests. If he closed his eyes he could hear Bombur’s happy humming alongside with him, imagining the big dwarf would still be here, helping him prepare an apple-cake for tea.

He could hear Dori’s swift fingers, handling his tea-set with uttermost care. He could hear a pencil brushing over paper, and imagine the inquisitive eyes of an auburn-haired dwarf on his back.

He could hear the incomprehensible words of Bifur and their joyful translation from his cousin Bofur. Oin fussing over a cut Gloin had brought on himself when sharpening his axe, demanding his brother to be more careful, because his wife would have his beard if he allowed his little brother to come to harm during this travel.

Now there were only Balin and Dwalin left and even when Bilbo knew that Balin was preparing the last caravan for departure and Dwalin would be with him within the hour, his heavy footfalls – honestly how could anybody be so loud when walking around barefoot – about to resonate through the smial, he suddenly felt very homesick for the company of his new friends.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

When Thorin returned not an hour later, he found Bilbo sitting on the window bench of his kitchen, looking out of the window, sadness written all over his face. Thorin’s heart fell because he knew what Bilbo was thinking. Now that the day of their departure was within reach, he regretted his promise to come with him, dreaded leaving the Shire and his home behind. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to ask his fiancé to talk about it, because he wasn’t sure he could handle hearing all that. So he simply stood behind his hobbit, gently trailing his fingers through Bilbo’s copper locks, tenderly massaging his neck.

Bilbo smiled at the caress, and leaned into Thorin willingly, when the dwarf lowered his head to inhale his clean scent. The hobbit even reached for his lover’s other hand, nuzzling into it before putting it on his cheek. His voice was low and blue when he revealed, “I miss them already. I really can’t wait to depart for the Blue Mountains.”

_> By Mahal,<_ Thorin choked brokenly, before wrapping his arms around his fiancé. He had never, not even in his wildest dreams, dared to hope that Bilbo would WANT to go with him. In his mind, their leaving had always been an inevitable burden he had placed upon his hobbit. Yet Bilbo’s confession seemed to lift a boulder from his chest, he hadn’t even known was there.

Recognizing the name of the dwarrows’ god on his lover’s lips, Bilbo instantly looked up at Thorin and glanced at him worriedly. “Are you alright?”

Thorin nodded, admitting hoarsely, “I thought that you would detest me at the end of the summer, because I force you to leave your home behind.”

_‘This won’t be my home for much longer, so why should I be sad about it?’_

Bilbo swallowed these words in the very last moment, because Thorin did not know that Bilbo had put Bag End on the table to get the rye they needed for fertilizing, nor was it true that he wouldn’t be sad when they finally departed.

Bilbo had been born in Bag End. His entire life had been here. Yet, for the first time, he suspected that his heart wouldn’t be able to stay when the last of his dwarrows left for the mountains. So he gently caressed his fiancé’s face, bringing their foreheads together, whispering assurances, “I could never detest you, Thorin. And this was my choice, always remember that. It was the right decision and I will see it through. I will find a new home in the mountains and everything is going to be alright.”

As he kissed his future husband tenderly, both revelled in the comfortable proximity for a few moments, until Fíli and Kíli nearly broke through the front door, announcing that the fauntlings had started to crawl today. Well not exactly crawl but surely slide along the floor because Fíli had had a toy in his hand that the little girl in Kíli’s arms obviously had wanted. So she had wiggled free from Kíli’s lap and gone for it. Her brother hadn’t liked that and had manoeuvred himself over the floor to bite into the toy from the other side.

The tug of war had lasted several moments and the crying match had only been interrupted when the dwarrows had produced the stuffed animals from their cribs, and carried the babies around to distract them from the one toy they both wanted. Knowing their fauntlings, it had worked of course, and after a few minutes they had all been sitting in the garden, chewing on the cuddly toys for entertainment. Well, at least the fauntlings had.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

That evening Balin laid out the plans for their departure. Five more days and everything would be ready. Looking around in his house later that evening, Bilbo thought that five days were not nearly enough for him. Not enough to decide what was important to him, what could be left behind and what would go to the Sackville-Bagginses in the end.

All of the Durins seemed to feel his troubled thoughts because for once Thorin didn’t ask Bilbo to read to him from his books, nor did Fíli and Kíli shower him with demands to braid their hair or overwhelm him with stories about the fauntlings. Balin and Dwalin had excused themselves right after supper: Balin to go through the inventory lists once again, whereas Dwalin had simply returned to Dís’s former guestroom, lying down and staring at the ceiling. Bilbo hadn’t changed the sheets after Dís’s departure, so he could still inhale her scent, remembering his time with his Lady.

Midnight was approaching, when Thorin finally picked Bilbo up from where he had dozed off in his armchair in front of the fireplace, and carried him to their rooms. When the hobbit stirred uneasily Thorin just whispered calming words into his pointy ears and immediately Bilbo stilled in his arms. Even when Thorin didn’t have his fiancé’s love, he had his trust and that was more than he could have hoped for at the beginning of the summer.

He undressed Bilbo with care, smiling when he spotted the bent scale of his armour on a string around the hobbit’s neck. His lover had managed to keep it hidden until now.

Oh how he wished that he could shower him with gold and jewels. But he knew that Bilbo would never approve of such luxuries. He was a simple hobbit and though he had enjoyed the headband Thorin had made for him, and had stored it away with great caution, a twisted, formerly burned scale from Thorin’s armour meant more to him than all the gold and the jewels the dwarf could give him. Gently he pulled the leather string from around Bilbo’s neck and placed the trinket on their nightstand.

Afterwards his eyes returned to his lover. He once more compared the soft and flawless body of the hobbit to his own travel-worn and scarred skin. Where he was hard and unyielding, Bilbo’s body was soft and pliant. Where his hobbit had unblemished skin, only marred by a tiny scar here and there, where he had cut his knee as a fauntling or scratched his arm on a tree, Thorin’s was covered with scars. Not only had his weapons training in his youth left marks behind, the fight at Moria and even his time travelling Middle-earth had engraved memories into his flesh.

A few months ago, he would have shied away from the comparison, deem himself not up to a hobbit’s standards, to bring his hard and painful past to the plush and comfortable life of one Bilbo Baggins. But Thorin had learned during this summer that his ‘soft’ hobbit had a core of steel and a head as hard as any dwarf’s. He had found strength where he hadn’t expected it and admiration where he hadn’t thought it possible.

After their first night by the river, Bilbo had made it his mission to map every scar and every marking on Thorin’s skin. And while in the beginning it had been uncomfortable for Thorin to know that his flesh was not as beautiful and flawless as his hobbit’s and to have it scrutinized, Bilbo’s caressing fingers and gentle kisses had made him realize that they were really not important. He had learned to enjoy the compliments his hobbit has showered him with, about his beautiful eyes and his amazing hair, his strong arms and his gentle hands.

It had taken some time, but now he enjoyed his hobbit’s hands on his body, no matter what they touched, be it scars with curiosity, his face with tenderness or his hair with swift efficiency while braiding it in the evening. The dwarf especially loved the languid enjoyment with which Bilbo usually combed through untangled strands, just because he adored the feeling of Thorin’s silky locks between his fingers.

When Thorin claimed his resting place on Bilbo’s chest, he decided that even though their bodies couldn’t be more different, their souls couldn’t be a better match, and that he would find a way to make the sadness in his lover’s face disappear. He wanted Bilbo to be happy. Bilbo deserved to be happy after everything he had done for them. And Thorin would do his uttermost to ensure that.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 


	55. First Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is leaving Bag End, together with his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of the first part of this story. The second part will start soon and will be referenced at the end of this. But it might take a little while. I have changed the story into a series a while ago. If you wan't to find out how Bilbo is doing in the Blue Mountains, stay tuned, because there is a lot more to come.

Bilbo didn’t want it, so he wouldn’t have it!

He wouldn’t mope around in his smial all day, snapping at Balin and Dwalin because they couldn’t change the inevitable: not everything he wished for would have room on the one wagon Balin had provided for him.

After looking for boxes and chests to transport his things, Bilbo had stopped at midday, when countless containers made it nearly impossible to put a foot on the floor in his own home. But still there was not enough room. Not for his dishes, not for his tablecloths, not for his cutlery. The space was too limited to take everything with him that made his smial his home.

Taking a deep breath, deciding that this madness would end here and now, he forced himself to remember his mother’s old saying: ‘In case of a fire, what would you take?’ when deciding what was important to keep and what he was willing to throw out.

So the three-columned list, ‘What to take’, ‘What to leave’ and ‘What to forego to Otho and Lobelia’ morphed into to one: ‘What can’t I bear to leave behind?’ Because every time he tried to find the answer to his mother’s question, he came up with but one answer: his family. Everything else was just stuff, maybe personal but not necessary important.

 

So he went from room to room, pushing away open boxes to have room once again, before deciding to start packing at the heart of his smial.

In the kitchen his father’s kettle found a place in an upholstered container, as did his tea set. He left the ‘good’ one behind, because they had only used it with important guests or when celebrating. But the slightly blemished mugs and scratched plates were … he had eaten nicked scones from them when his mother had baked. He had drunken tea from them, when he had been sick. Kíli had chipped one, when washing it for the first time. He could not bear to leave these things behind – family was important, and remembering a lost one even more so. So, carefully enveloped in his mother’s doilies, they found a place in the container in the kitchen.

On an afterthought Bilbo also placed his best kitchen-knife, a big cauldron, and the pan Thorin had made for him beside the box. They would have to eat on their way to the mountains. And knife was always a sensible choice, because he always could make good use of it. The kettle was plain necessity, he defended his choices.

In the dining room, he looked around, and after a moment’s hesitation, he emptied the big wooden bowl that sat on the table, of its fruity content and took it to the kitchen. He would most certainly NOT leave a bowl behind that Fíli and Kíli had made for him. It was an extraordinary piece of craftsmanship, especially for two dwarrows who hadn’t known the first thing about woodworking a month prior to making it.

 

The living-room was much harder. He would love to bring his armchair along, but the sensible Baggins side told him, that this idea was impracticable. So he just brushed over the worn cloth, inhaling the scent decades of usage had left behind, and jumped a little when Dwalin asked, “Are you alright, Bilbo?”

Forcing a smile on his face, the hobbit admitted, “I just realized that there are things I would have liked to bring along that are simply not a sensible choice. So yes, generally I am alright, thanks for your concern.” Capitulating he went to the bureau of the room and picked out several pipes and his whole stash of tobacco. He also placed his entire box of sewing utilities in the chest that stood on the table, as well as his carving utilities.

Bilbo was aware that his abilities to carve wood would be well outmatched by all the dwarrows’ capabilities to work metal. Yet, this was one of the skills his father had taught him, and he couldn’t bear to leave his tools behind. Bungo himself had commissioned them for his thirtieth birthday, and Bilbo had been so terribly proud of them, because they had shining ebony handles and were really sharp. And they only took a little space after all.

He decided to leave the bedroom and the other guest-rooms for later because the majority of his clothes would be sorted through anyway tomorrow, when deciding what he would need for surviving a winter in a mountain. So his next stop was his study.

 

After looking around for a moment, he plopped down at his writing desk. The number of books, scrolls and maps overwhelmed him, because the mere thought of leaving a single one of his beloved documents behind was unbearable for him. Dishes, clothes, doilies, even his gardening tools – and he reminded himself he WOULD need those – were not as important to him as his books. So deciding that he would pack as many as he could, he started going through the shelves.

Obviously he had made a lot of noise, because after a few minutes, Balin had looked inside, but had swiftly retreated when he had realized what Bilbo was doing. Bilbo was so deeply absorbed in his task that he didn’t realize that there seemed to be an endless amount of boxes by his side. Only when he took a bathroom break did he catch Dwalin with two chests under his arms, leaving the smial.

“And where do you think you are going, Mister?” Bilbo was infuriated. He had finally decided what to pack and what to leave behind, and now this sneaky dwarf sabotaged him?

Yet Dwalin deadpanned, “Carrying your filled chests to the carriage. Or did you think that the trunks were walking out of your study on their own?”

With big eyes, Bilbo gazed into his study once again, realizing that it was more than half empty. Only two half-filled chests remained on the floor, waiting to be stocked entirely, before being packed away and secured for transport.

When Balin entered next, he found Bilbo staring at the floor. Smiling a little, the white-haired dwarf gave Bilbo a gentle nudge, “Well, Master Baggins, your books won’t jump into these boxes all by themselves. You better hurry, Dwalin will be back in a moment.”

“Balin, I …” lost for words, because his dwarrows had been such a great support for him, not complaining or nagging him for bringing something along that they – or at least Dwalin – would surely see no use in. Instead they had helped him, not even getting a ‘thank you’ from him in return, because he hadn’t even been aware of them.

When Dwalin returned to the study, grunting in irritation because the next boxes were NOT ready to be carried away, the dwarf found himself with two arms full of clingy hobbit. Bilbo hugged the warrior so fiercely that for a moment Dwalin was impressed about how much strength rested in such a small body.

But after the said moment, where the dwarf returned the embrace, he pushed Bilbo away, informing him grumpily, “We won’t be finished before tea-time if you don’t continue now. And by then Fíli and Kíli will be underfoot, and everything will be a mess. Hurry up, Master Baggins!”

Smiling, unimpressed by the sullen tone, the hobbit returned to packing, and when his study was empty, he took his time to inspect the carriage. Bilbo realized that at least a third of the place was taken up by his books. When he asked worriedly whether there would still be enough place for his dwarrows’ things, Balin and Dwalin informed him, laughing, that they rarely travelled with more than what fitted on their ponies’ backs. The carriage was solely reserved for Bilbo. He was the one to leave his home after all.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The second day was exclusively used for Bilbo deciding which clothes to bring and which to leave behind. Bell Gamgee was friendly enough to provide him with her swift fingers and her sewing kit. Together they sorted through his things, humming joyous tunes in harmony, made minor repairs and major mendings to the clothes that would be needed in the cold mountains.

That evening the Durins prepared the meals and Bell gladly accepted their invitation to join them for dinner together with her whole family. Hamfast brought the kids around, and they all took a late supper after Bilbo’s entire wardrobe for his travels was sorted through.

 

It was that night that Bilbo dared to impose Bag End’s safekeeping to his gardener and his wife. He had thought long and hard about it. It had even crossed his mind to ask Otho and Lobelia to move in ahead of schedule. But his stomach had revolted at the thought of those two going through his parents’ stuff, maybe even selling a thing or two to make a little money on the side.

The Gamgees were supportive and trustworthy people and he could not think of anybody who would take better care of his family’s home – apart from his grandparents, who would of course take the best care possible for their child’s family’s home. But Adamanta and Gerontius had enough to do as it was. So they wouldn’t be ready to take up the responsibilities of caring for another smial, even if Bilbo was sure that if he asked them, they would most definitely agree.

Hamfast and Bell were completely taken aback by the vote of confidence. They asked for a moment to think about it and stepped outside for a quick smoke and an even quicker discussion of what they should do. But Bilbo knew them, knew them better than most. He would entrust his most valuable property to them, and there was no way they wouldn’t live up to his expectations.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

Two more days for packing passed by uneventfully. Bilbo stashed, polished and packed some of his stuff; but most of it just found its way back into the cupboards. Nearly everything he would bring was stashed away by now, the wagon ready for departure. Underneath his clothes was his mother’s glory box. It contained Bilbo’s most valued possessions, things he simply felt unable to leave behind.

His baby teeth, his first book: a crude, loosely bound bunch of sheets he had painted and written upon in childish excitement. The cover however was of the finest leather, inscribed with Belladonna’s flowery handwriting. It read:

His father had bound it for him and his mother inscribed it. It was one of the most valuable memories for him, because it reflected his upbringing perfectly. His mother had always encouraged him to walk out their door, to go on his journeys and see ‘the world’, even if it was just within the borders of their beloved Hobbiton. His father had urged him to write about it, so that others – who weren’t as eager for excitement as he was – could get a chance to share his excursions, even if it was only in spirit.

Furthermore a wooden spoon he had carved when little found its place in the glory box. His mother had always used this one in their sugar mug, even if it was a little uneven. A wooden pipe, while broken, was stashed away safely, because his father hadn’t had the heart to throw it out. A 10-year old Bilbo had given it to him for Christmas and it had only made it through its first year before breaking.

But most of all it contained the letters his parents had written and received. To and from Rivendell, to and from their siblings, cousins, every close and extended family member they had wished to stay in contact with. And at the very bottom it contained his mother’s bridal veil and the handkerchief his father had worn at their wedding, a silky piece of cloth that was engraved with the letters BB. Bilbo remembered his mother using it on special occasions, wrapped around her wrist, to show it off to her relatives.

Bilbo could not remember a woman who was more prone to show off the man she loved and her association with him. His grandmother might be the only exception to that rule. Wherever Bungo and Belladonna had gone, they had always been together. It had come as no surprise that his mother had gone back to attack the wolf who had maimed his father. A life without Bungo had been unthinkable for her.

Now their heirlooms – though not particularly valuable, but for Bilbo worth more than his entire home – were stashed away safely for their transport to Bilbo’s new residence.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The last night in their home was spent with all the Durins together in the living-room. Nobody wanted to go to bed. Nobody wanted their time in the Shire to end. It had all been an amazing adventure for them, teaching them things about themselves they had not thought possible. In the morning they would all wake up and had to return to their former lives, full of teaching, lessons and responsibilities.

Bilbo had to admit that he was equally excited and worried when he thought about their trip. It would only take them about a fortnight to reach Ered Luin, the Dwarven Kingdom in the Blue Mountains. It was new, an exciting voyage, but when he thought about what he was leaving behind, what he had put at stake for the prosperity of this kingdom, he felt his stomach ache slightly. He tried to shove the thought away, tried to concentrate on the excitement that lay before him, but he couldn’t erase all of his worries, nor did he want to if he was honest.

He was about to leave his home behind, not for a summer with his elvish friends, but to be with his new family. Endings were bound to be sad, otherwise new beginnings would not be as exciting.

Thorin and he spent their last night in languid lovemaking. None of them was overly excited; they just enjoyed the familiar surroundings, the safety of the home where they had found each other. They took their time, something Thorin suspected they would not get a chance to do once they returned to the Blue Mountains. Sharing a bed with his intended was completely out of the question, especially with their wedding coming up. Dwarrows were … traditional that way and Thorin would take his chance to be close to Bilbo as long as he could.

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

The next morning was brilliantly blue and very warm, so very unlikely the first day they had arrived here. The dwarven princes admired their hobbit, when he dashed through his smial to do some last minute cleaning and packing of the leftover food from his pantry and whatever his garden held.

Bread, cheese, ham, dried meat, potatoes, carrots, tomatoes and on top of that all cucumbers filled a box that was covered neatly and placed on top of everything else, right next to the cooking gear and some wooden plates Fíli and Kíli had managed to make in a last minute attempt to equip their hobbit for his travels.

Bilbo hadn’t even thought about telling them that this was hardly his first adventure and that the copper dishes that his family had used for travels for the last few decades had already been stashed away for later use. Instead he admired their handiwork and the swiftness of it, and put the new plates at the very top of his stack of dishes.

 

When he finally brought his key to the Gamgees, their farewell was brief yet tearful. Hamfast used the last minute chance to advise him on how to treat the fruits and vegetables Bilbo planned to plant. He reminded his former employer what was important regarding soil, position and manuring, something the hobbit had learned from his gardener many years ago. Bell promised that they would take the best care of Bag End. That she would clean it at least once a week, take care of the flowers that usually sat on the windowsills and tables, and that she would have everything ready, whenever Bilbo planned to return.

 

The Tooks’ smial was the very last place they needed to visit, ahead of leaving Hobbiton. Yet before entering, all dwarrows hesitated. The sons of Fundin because the royals stopped, the royals because they suddenly remembered their very first, very unpleasant trip, here. Bilbo hesitated, simply because he couldn’t get used to the leather armour Thorin had provided him with, and tried to make himself presentable before he would say his goodbyes to his grandparents.

No fiancé of his would travel without any armour, the dwarven prince had decided. That was completely out of the question for Thorin Oakenshield. Reluctantly Bilbo had given in, because it was much easier than convincing his lover that he had travelled just fine for the last thirty years, without any protection but a long kitchen-knife and his parents. Now he had to deal with the stiff material that restricted his body.

When they finally knocked, his grandmother greeted them at the door, instantly handing Isengrim over to Dwalin, who was smitten with the little boy, just like every time the Old Took had foisted his child upon him. She hugged them all fiercely and of course invited them for second breakfast. But neither Bilbo nor his dwarrows wanted to draw out their leave any longer.

So with a quick cup of tea Bilbo gave them an overview of what would happen with Bag End. That the Gamgees would take care of his parents’ home and yes, that he had everything he would need in the Blue Mountains.

Neither Balin and Dwalin, nor the Durins even blinked when Gerontius threatened them with severe bodily harm, should they not take proper care of his grandson. All dwarrows bowed deeply to the thain, promising to lay down their very lives, should it be necessary to protect their hobbit.

Finally it was time to say goodbye. Gerontius took his time with each and every dwarf. Even Dwalin allowed him a brief hug, grumbling at whatever the Old Took whispered into his ear. Fíli and Kíli even shed some tears, clutching onto Bilbo’s grandfather, even more than they had ever clung on to their own.

Then came Bilbo. No words were needed between the members of the Took family. Gerontius had made a demand, and Bilbo was following it through. Both were proud because they knew that Belladonna would approve of what had come of it.

The last to leave was Thorin. Everybody had left the smial, waiting by the ponies while the Old Took kept the dwarven prince behind. Whatever Gerontius told Thorin, whatever he did to him, Bilbo could see unshed tears in his fiancé’s eyes when he left his grandfather’s home and mounted his ride. Instantly Bilbo was worried and manoeuvred his pony close, asking in a low voice, “What is it, Thorin? Did my grandfather …”

But Thorin interrupted him in an instant. He shook his head and reached for Bilbo’s hand, kissing his wrist lovingly and nuzzling into the small hand for a moment. He kept their fingers intertwined after that, at least for a moment, while admitting, “Your grandfather was a blessing for me, because he brought the one person into my life that could save us all, and I will be forever grateful for that.”

Rising in his saddle – although unsteadily – Bilbo leaned over to his fiancé and kissed him tenderly. When he was safe on his pony once again, with only a little help from Thorin, Bilbo gripped the reins and urged his ride on. With sparkling eyes he bypassed his friends, Fíli and Kíli and the rest of the caravan, Thorin hard on his heels.

Bilbo radiated excitement from his very core, encouraging his new family and friends, “Come on now. Let’s be off! An exciting adventure is waiting for us and I can’t wait to get it started.”

 

\- ϾѺϿ -

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you had as much fun reading it, as I had writing. There still is more to come.
> 
> If you would like to talk to me about this story, I can also be found on tumblr, the name is: "anchanee" (no surprise there).
> 
> One last thing: I am a huge fan of fanart. Especially that of kaci because she already allowed me to post several pictures along with my story. But I would really, really love to have more of them, especially a title picture. I would love so much to accompany my chapters with pictures but most of the time Thorin is shown in a superior position and that kind of doesn't fit my story. Or the Durin's are sketched in their positions as warriors, and that's really great because that's what they are. But that's not what they are for Bilbo and I would so very much adore to have a few more pictures to accompany my story. For anybody who would find inspiration from this story, please, please tell me about your pictures and allow me to post them. I would be eternally grateful.
> 
> But this is the end of the first part. Not too long and we will start with the second. I have changed this story into a series a little while ago, to give you a chance to subscribe to it. I will also include a reference to the second part at the end of this chapter as soon as it get's started.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your kind words and your never-ending support. Your comments really made me strife and enjoy my story all the more for it.
> 
> Last but not least, thanks to my betareader Redone. I wouldn't be at this point without her support. Luckily she has signed up for the second part too, so you can expect the quality of the story remain upheld thank's to her. 
> 
> I will see you soon, traveling alongside of Bilbo and Thorin to the Blue Mountains. Until then,
> 
> ♥ Anchanee, at your service

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fanart for Serve your Happiness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/962349) by [Odekiisu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odekiisu/pseuds/Odekiisu)
  * [I Was Made (You Must Lose Things)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9797183) by [aHostileRainbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aHostileRainbow/pseuds/aHostileRainbow)




End file.
